Heir of Calenor
by Elmethea
Summary: Higgen Took becomes part of a quest to destroy the last relic of Morgoth. The leader of the quest is a loyal friend, a traitor of blood, a fierce fighter, and the heir of a mysterious legend. Contains minor slash.
1. 1 Upon Meeting Anduin

**Upon Meeting Anduin**

Rain lashed the leaves and a wind hissed through the night. Thunder rumbled in the not-so-far distance. Higgen Took, a fairly respectable member of the Took family, was on his way back from Bree.

"Oh what a night for a storm!" He lamented as lightening flashed overhead. "How I wish I was home in my hobbit hole!" He darted along the road, passing from tree to tree with his cloak pulled up tightly around his face.

"Cold," he grumbled. "And wet! And perfectly miserable! I should have listened to that man at the Inn, but I just had to get home tonight." The little hobbit paused and peered through the rain. The Brandywine River was just ahead, and Higgen hurried forward hopefully.

"Oh why?" He cried when he saw that that Buckleberry ferry was tied on the other side of the river. "However will I get home now?" He sat down in the mud on the riverbank and wiped raindrops from his face.

"I suppose that now I shall have no choice but to somehow get to Brandywine Bridge," he sighed. "But that is nearly twenty miles! Whatever shall I do?"

Now Higgen was, as most hobbits usually are, very hungry. He had eaten lunch at the Inn but he had missed tea and was feeling rather cross about it all. The thought of his warm hobbit hole with a pot of tea starting to whistle and some wheat rolls warm out of the oven was nearly maddening.

So Higgen did what most hobbits do when they are hungry: he neglected to think. In fact, Higgen was so hungry that twenty miles through a stormy night seemed well worth a decent meal. And so he picked himself off of the riverbank and tried to brush off his cloak.

"Ruined no doubt!" He sighed when he saw it coated in thick mud. "But there really is nothing for it." And so he set off along the bank, hoping to reach home in a few hours.

But the path that led along the Eastern bank of the Brandywine was overgrown with bushes and briars. Soon Higgen was forced to repeatedly leave the riverbank and find a way around the tangles and thorns. But one time when he turned back toward the river, he found that the river was not where he had thought it was at all. In fact, the rushing of rain drowned out the sound of the Brandywine, which was after all a very quiet river.

"And where are you now, Higgen Took?" He rebuked himself. "Lost no doubt! But best to keep moving along where you think you left that river. How I wish I was home in my hobbit hole!" And by now he was so crazed with fear and hunger that he went quite the wrong way.

"This can't be right!" Higgen mumbled, finding his way blocked by a tumble of large boulders. And so he made his way along and around them until he came to the other side. Then he set off again, and yet again in quite the wrong direction.

After several hours had passed, and the rain had slowed from a downpour to a drizzle and then had ceased altogether, Higgen sat down in a clump of ferns.

"Now you've really done it, haven't you?" He said. But by now he had walked quite a long way, for a halfling, and he was exhausted. So Higgen settled down in the ferns and moss and slept fitfully.

He woke at last to the morning light and the birdsong. Higgen sat up and rubbed his eyes, only to find that he was in a very strange place. Somehow, in the night, he had wandered from the forest and was now on some sort of plain. The large space frightened the little hobbit, and he got to his feet and fled back into the woods.

Indeed, he was running so wildly, seeking a small place where a small person would not feel so very vulnerable, that he ran right into the path of a rider.

"Whoa, steady there," the man yelled as his horse fidgeted and pawed the ground. Higgen looked up at the stranger in terror and the man looked down on him without any expression.

The rider was tall, very tall for a hobbit, and tall for a Man. His hair was cut shorter than the Men Higgen had seen in Bree, but still flopped into the man's eyes. And those eyes were startlingly blue, staring out of his dirty and stubbled face. The man was clearly a rover of some sort, he and his horse looked hard and weathered.

"A hobbit? In the wild?" the man asked, giving Higgen a crooked smile. "What's your name then?"

"Higgen Took, of Tooktown." Higgen squeaked. He was barely as tall as the horse's legs!

"Well Higgen Took, of Tooktown," the stranger said, "I am Anduin, of no town. How did you get out here in the middle of the wild?"

"I got lost," Higgen blushed.

"Pretty lost," Anduin of no town laughed. "Come on then, and I'll take you home."

He offered the hobbit his hand, and lifted him up onto the horse's back. Settling him in the saddle in front of him, Anduin picked up the reins and said, "Hold onto to his mane. Good and tight. Don't worry, it won't hurt him." Then he clucked to the horse and they moved forward at a sedate walk.

"What's his name?" Higgen asked, for he had a great love of all animals.

"Phaethon," Anduin answered, patting the horses neck.

"He's the most beautiful horse I've ever seen," Higgen said in awe. (It should be noted that Higgen had seen relatively few horses, but he did admire Phaethon very much).

"Don't let him hear you say that," Anduin chuckled. The hobbit could feel the laughter in the man's chest and it was comforting to him. "And he's not technically a horse. I bred him from a wild pony of the North and an Elven steed. He's mischievous as an orc and a lot more intelligent about it, too."

They rode on in silence for a little while. Now, as you may have noticed, Higgen enjoyed talking. Silence was not something he was particularly good at.

"Thank you for taking me home," he said at last.

"It's my job," Anduin answered. Higgen twisted around and looked up at the man.

"Is it really?" He asked. "So you often pick up hobbits in the wild and return them home? I had no idea halflings were so poor at navigation."

"No, I don't normally do this," Anduin smiled that crooked smile. "But I am charged with protecting the borders of the Shire. I'm a ranger."

"A ranger? What is a ranger?"

"We are just Men who owe alliance to no lord but instead have pledged ourselves to roam the wild lands and rout out whatever foul creatures we find there." At this moment, Higgen's stomach, much to his great embarrassment, gurgled.

"I'd forgotten how much you little ones need to eat!" The Man laughed, pulling Phaethon to a stop. "Tell me, Master Took, when was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday noontide," Higgen sighed. Anduin dismounted and picked the hobbit up off of the horse and place him on the grass.

"That's nearly a day ago! I didn't know hobbits could go so long without food!" He said and he began to unpack a saddle bag. He brought out apples and oat farls.

"How do you know so much about Shire folk, if you don't mind me asking?" Higgen asked, tearing greedily into an oat farl.

"I've been to Bree and the surrounding country. I've seen my share of your kind," Anduin selected one of the apples and bit into it.

"But I've never heard of a ranger! How can you have seen us and us not have seen you?"

"Oh, I can avoid being seen if I don't wish to be."

They traveled a few hours more until they reached Brandywine Bridge.

"I really do seem to have made a muddle of things in the night," Higgen said with embarrassment.

"Shall I leave you here? It is a long way still to Tooktown," Anduin said as they crossed the bridge.

"No, no you must come to see my home," Higgen offered. Other hobbits, tending their fields and gardens looked up suspiciously as the ragged stranger rode by. Higgen felt a blush rise up his ears but he spoke sternly to himself.

"Now Higgen Took, this man saved you in the wild. Goodness knows how long you would have been there before you found your way back. If you found your way back. Just ignore their stares, there's a good hobbit."

Out loud he said, "This next left and then the right after that." Anduin guided Phaethon through Bucktown and then across farmland. At last Tooktown was in sight.

Higgen guided Anduin right up to the door of his hobbit hole. Anduin lowered him down off of Phaethon and the little hobbit ran to open the gate.

"Are you sure you want me to come in?" the ranger asked. "Your neighbors, didn't seem very... hospitable." Now if there is something a hobbit cannot tolerated, it is being considered inhospitable. Even if they are inhospitable, they prefer not to be thought of as such.

"Nonsense! You have to stay for tea!" Higgen declared angrily. He was ashamed that his rescuer had noticed his neighbors' reactions. "Let them look all they like, I'm having a guest for tea, and I don't care who knows," He proclaimed loudly so that Clara Took, who lived next door, cast a sharp glance his way.

And so Anduin tied Phaethon outside in the garden and he stooped down to enter the round hobbit door. Higgen put out a large array of seed cakes and mushroom pasties and even brought out both tea and beer.

"Is someone else joining us?" Anduin smiled, "Or perhaps five someone else's?" The ranger ended up staying late, largely because the hobbit wouldn't let him leave.

"I really must leave now, Master Took," Anduin said at last.

"Higgen, you must call me Higgen."

"Very well," Anduin smiled. Outside it was twilight and Phaethon had eaten the azaleas. "Bad horse," Anduin scolded. As he walked in front of Higgen, the hobbit noticed that he limped. He seemed to put almost all of his weight on his right leg, and then hardly any on his left.

"If you ever need me," Anduin said, smiling down on the hobbit from the saddle. "Send a letter to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. It will find me, eventually." Then the mysterious ranger, Anduin of no town, turned his pony (or was it a horse?) and disappeared into the gathering dusk.


	2. 2 A Message

**A Message**

The entire bar was warbling some atrociously off-key ballad when the rangers walked in. There were three of them and when they entered, the bar fell silent.

"Three ales," one said to the barkeep. The man poured out three pints of amber liquid, and then squinted over his shoulder at his other customers.

"Well, go on then," he bellowed good-naturedly. "What happened to Turin and Niniel? Mind your own business and keep singing!" At that about half the bar continued their drunken singing and the other half split into small groups to talk in whispers.

"My thanks," the first ranger said, putting six coins on the bar.

"Oi," the barkeep said as the man turned away. "I've got something. Told to give to Anduin, but I haven't seen him here for months."

"What sort of thing?" The second ranger asked darkly, sipping his ale.

"Just a letter," the barkeep said, pulling the paper, now covered in grime, from his pocket. "Some hobbit asked me to give it to him." The rangers put their heads together and whispered. Finally the third one came back over to the bar.

"Anduin is nearby. We will give him the letter," he said. The barkeep hesitated, but then the ranger pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it on the counter.

"Just one?" The barkeep asked.

"It's from a hobbit," the first ranger said. "How important can it be?" The barkeep continued staring at the ranger until he placed another, smaller coin on top of the first.

"Much obliged, gentlemen," the barkeep said, handing over the letter and scooping up his profit.

Anduin was nearby, he was camped in the forest along the edge of a stream. He had not slept in a bed for months and had not shaved for days. Indeed, he was on his way to Bree hoping to do those two things, but the rangers found him first.

The three cantered up to his camp and he went to greet them. Rangers know each other, but do not often meet as they are generally solitary. He recognized the three men, but not the handwriting on the letter they gave him.

They waited for him to open and read the letter. "No trouble?" The first one asked.

Anduin did not answer, but rather he made haste to break camp and saddle Phaethon. "Is there any trouble?" The man repeated.

"I don't yet know," Anduin said shortly, pulling himself into the saddle.

"Do you need help?" The second ranger inquired, but Anduin shook his head.

"No, friends," he replied, spurring Phaethon with a nudge of his right foot. "I am sure I am worried for no reason."


	3. 3 Higgen Goes on an Adventure

**During Which Higgen Goes on an Adventure**

The fields around Tooktown were dying. That was the first thing Anduin noticed. As though all of the area had been stricken with some plague or drought. Even the gardens were wilted and withered. It was nighttime and all was very still.

Anduin knocked on the little round door. He had to bend down to do so, but almost immediately Higgen pulled the door open. At first the hobbit backed away in fright from the stranger in the night, but then he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anduin, I've been waiting for weeks!" he said. "Come in, come in!"

"I just received your letter," Anduin said softly, ducking to enter. "I rode all night."

"I can't thank you enough," Higgen said, leading the way into the kitchen. "I just couldn't think who else to ask."

"Where is it?" Anduin asked, peering around in the half-light of the dying fire.

"Over there, on the table," Higgen nodded. "Would you care for some tea?"

"No, thank you." Anduin bent over the table. It had been cleared off, except for a small, dirty cloth wrapped around a lump of metal. "You didn't touch it, did you?"

"No," the hobbit said nervously. "I, I know it sounds silly of me, but I was afraid to."

Anduin nodded and then, "Bring me a small bag of some sort. One with a drawstring, preferably."

Higgen ran to do as he was told, and found a little brown bag that he used to hold buttons. He dumped the buttons on his bed and brought the bag to Anduin. The ranger carefully put the lump of metal in the bag, taking care not to touch it.

"What is it?" Higgen asked as it disappeared from his sight.

"I don't know. We'll take it to Elrond, he will know."

"We?" Higgen squeaked. "Surely you don't mean..."

"You're the one who found it," Anduin said, tying the bag to his belt.

"But, but no respectable hobbit would ever go on something like an adventure," Higgen squeaked.

"Then I guess you need to lose your respectability. Run and find someone to look after your house while you're away," Anduin said, turning the hobbit around and pushing him toward the door.

"But, whatever shall I tell them?" Higgen wailed, dragging his feet.

"Tell them your going to visit relatives," Anduin suggested. "That sounds very respectable." With that he pushed Higgen out of the door.

Higgen returned, breathless, to his garden a few moments later. "My brother-in-law," he panted, "I told him I was going to visit the Baggins. They live in Hobbiton, clear across the respectable family."

"Good, now come on, no time to lose," Anduin lifted Higgen up and deposited him in Phaethon's saddle.

"But I haven't packed anything," the hobbit stammered. "No handkerchief, not even a cloak..." Anduin handed him his cloak a second later.

"I packed for you. You'll be happy to find out that you have four handkerchiefs for the journey."


	4. 4 In Luck and Good Weather

**In Luck and Good Weather**

"How far is it to Rivendell?" Higgen asked. He was sore from riding through the night and early morning, and feeling very put upon.

"Four days, in luck and good weather," Anduin answered. They were moving quickly and had passed Bree about half an hour ago.

"Four days? I thought I'd be home sooner than that!"

"I'll do my best. Four days is already a bit optimistic," Anduin said. He was much more serious than the last time Higgen had met him.

"Well can't we go a little faster, then?" The hobbit grumbled. He was hungry and starting to believe that going on adventures without eating breakfast first was a very foolish idea.

"We can walk and go longer or gallop and have to rest," Anduin explained.

"What about breakfast?" Anduin sighed and turned in the saddle. He handed a lump of cheese and some crusty bread to the hobbit.

"Hey, this is mine!" Higgen exclaimed.

"Well, I, uh. Yes," Anduin admitted and Higgen could hear the guilt in his voice. "I didn't actually have enough food to make it to Rivendell, so I, um, borrowed a bit from your pantry."

"That's all right," Higgen chuckled, "I promised by brother-in-law he could help himself to the pantry. He's a glutton, and probably would have taken twice what you did. As for this cheese, he would have swallowed it whole."

"Hark whose talking," Anduin said, and that crooked smile tugged at his lips.

They rode well into the afternoon, despite Higgen's requests for elevens' and luncheon. Anduin only consented to stop when Phaethon picked up a stone in his shoe. The ranger helped Higgen down and then he dismounted.

Higgen noticed that as he did so, he kept all of his weight off of his left leg, using his grip on the saddle until his right leg was firmly on the ground. When Anduin caught the hobbit watching him he tossed him two water sacks.

"Fill these up and we'll be off," he said. Higgen walked over to the stream that ran near the road and began to fill up the sacks, watching Anduin as he did.

Kneeling seemed to be painful for Anduin. As he began to kneel he grimaced and clung to Phaethon's leg for support. He plied the stone from Phaethon's shoe and pulled himself up. Higgen though he hear Anduin give a soft moan as his left leg straightened.

"Off again," Anduin said, taking the water sacks from the hobbit and slinging them across the horse's back. He lifted Higgen up and then climbed on himself. By now the hobbit noticed that Anduin only ever mounted on the right side of Phaethon.

As they set off Higgen was preparing to ask whether Anduin was injured, but then something else caught his eye. The ranger's hands were in front of the hobbit, and Higgen noticed that Anduin wore two rings.

"Where did you get those rings?" He asked curiously, for the light sparkled and glinted off of them.

"Oh," Anduin flexed his hand, as though suddenly becoming aware of his rings. "The gold one was given to me by my... when I was a boy. The ruby is from more recently. Elven made, you know."

Higgen reached out a hand to touch the glimmering ruby when suddenly Anduin's hands clenched.

"What is it?" Higgen asked, drawing his hand back. Now he realized that Anduin had completely tensed. Without a word, Anduin swung his leg over Phaethon and dismounted. He walked to the head of the horse and patted his cheek, his eyes searching the woods on either side of the road.

Suddenly men crashed through the trees on either side of the road. They were ragged, like rangers, but had a starved and crazed look about them. "Ambush!" Anduin yelled.

He jumped from Phaethon and drew his sword. Higgen heard himself give a scream of surprise and fear. Anduin raised his left hand and slapped Phaethon's flanks, sending the horse galloping forward.

Anduin was surrounded. He planted his feet firmly and faced his attackers. A flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He turned and slammed the hilt of his sword into the robber sneaking up behind him. Then he slashed the stomach of another man. The third robber, who looked to be the leader, put up a fight. Their swords clashed again and again but in the end the vagrant was no match for the ranger.

Two of the robbers had taken off after Higgen and Phaethon. Anduin dropped his sword and pulled his bow forth. He notched an arrow and let it fly and then repeated the movement.

Someone else was breathing nearby. The robber he had slammed with his sword hilt, driving the breath out of him, was gasping nearby. Anduin picked up his sword and cut the man's throat.

He was not worried about Phaethon and the hobbit. Either they would make it to the Ford of Elrand, which Phaethon would not cross without his master, or Higgen would fall off. Anduin believed the latter more likely, as he had told the hobbit, Phaethon was mischievous. Perhaps the correct word was just headstrong.

Anduin sat by the side of the road and cleaned his bloodied sword. He checked his bow and unstrung it, curling the string up and putting it away. Next he cut a long stave from a hemlock. He trimmed the twigs and leaves from it with his knife. Then, leaning heavily on the walking staff he had made, he started down the road.

Higgen had fallen off. Rather soon after Phaethon had started running they had come to a field. Phaethon sensed that someone who was not firm and skilled was riding him and he threw the hobbit into a thicket. Higgen was unhurt, but now Phaethon had run away.

Higgen struggled from the thicket, shouting after Phaethon. "Come back! Come back, you horrible nag, what will I tell your master?" And then the little hobbit ran as fast as he could after the pony.

He caught up to the stallion where he had stopped to graze in a meadow. Phaethon did not want to be caught, however, and he nimbly danced away from the hobbit. Higgen ran after him, snatching for his bridle but then eventually gave up and sat in the middle of the field on a rock.

It was nightfall by the time Anduin found him there. The ranger looked tired and dusty and he came limping along the road.

"Are you hurt?" Higgen asked, running up to the ranger.

"There were only five," Anduin looked surprised at the hobbit's concern. Higgen blushed and looked down at his toes. "Where's Phaethon?"

"Over there," Higgen said miserably, nodding toward where the pony stood on the far side of the meadow. "I tried to catch him but..."

Anduin whistled sharply and Phaethon's ears perked up. He raised his head and looked over at the ranger and the hobbit. Then, meek as he could be, he trotted over to his master.

"Come on, might as well bed down here," Anduin said, and he began to unsaddle Phaethon.

That night, Anduin made them a soup of vegetables and herbs. The vegetables had been from Higgen's pantry, but the savory herbs came from a bag that Anduin kept in his saddle kit. Anduin began to sing softly and the hobbit fell asleep to his songs.

"Time to get up," a voice said.

"I don't want to," Higgen grumbled. "Too sore..."

"That's from riding, come on, we better keep moving." Higgen opened his eyes and saw the ranger toasting bread and apples over the fire. "We'll eat on the way."

Phaethon was already saddled, and Higgen wondered how early Anduin would have had to gotten up to be ready to leave before the sun had risen.

"Up we go," Anduin said, pushing the hobbit onto the pony's back. He then handed the hobbit a slice of bread and a warm apple before climbing up behind him.

"Ugh, my poor legs!" The hobbit groaned. "They do ache, and so does my..."

"Don't worry, the second day is the worst," Anduin said. They walked along the road throughout the morning, and the ranger even agreed to stop for elevens', but he put his foot down about second breakfast and luncheon.

"Two meals a day is enough, and we needn't be stopping any more than that." But by mid-morning, just after elevens', Anduin stopped.

"What's wrong?" Higgen asked nervously, cowering back into the man's chest. "Robbers?"

"No," Anduin said. Then he dismounted and gave the reins to Higgen. "Stay here."

"No problem," the hobbit remarked dryly, remembering how the pony had thrown him yesterday. Anduin went back along the path, the way they had come, peering through the trees. Higgen watched him go, and he was concerned, for Anduin's limp seemed worse than yesterday.

The ranger turned and ran back to Phaethon but before Higgen could ask why the ranger put a hand over the hobbit's mouth. He mouthed "Be quiet" to Higgen and then he mounted Phaethon. Without a word he turned the horse and urged him off the path.

As soon as they left the sight of the path behind, Anduin nudged Phaethon with his right leg and spurred him into a gallop. Higgen couldn't have talked now if he wanted to, it was all he could do to stay on the horse.

Soon, however, Anduin had to stop. When Higgen opened his mouth, the ranger shook his head and put a finger to his lips. He did not help Higgen off of the horse, but stopped only to give Phaethon water from the water sack before he moved on.

"We're being followed," Anduin hissed into Higgen's ear. Higgen nodded in understanding, but he still wondered why they were headed into the wild.

That day they kept up the same routine: short gallop, then a stop to rest Phaethon. At night, Anduin forbid any fire, and so they ate cold food and slept little.

"Who do you think is following us?"

"I don't know. But it is best not to find out," Anduin said.

"Why have we gone off the path?"

"It is easier to vanish into the wild."

"And why have we stopped walking?"

"Because in the wild it is better to move fast or be perfectly still than to walk sedately along. It's also the best way to lose a tracker."


	5. 5 In Which Anduin Tells Stories

**In Which Anduin Tells Stories**

When Higgen woke the next morning, he found what Anduin had said to be true: "the second day is the worst". While he was still sore, he felt stronger than two days before. It seemed to him now that the best way to eat breakfast was in the saddle.

By late afternoon, Anduin said confidently, "We've lost them, whoever they were." At this Higgen cheered, thinking of a warm fire that night.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Anduin told him stories of the Elves and the First Age.

First, Anduin told the story of Calenor, a Man of Brethil.

"Calenor, some say, was descended from Tuor and the kings of old. Others say he was an outlaw hiding from his past. Still others claimed that Calenor was a wild man of the woods, or perhaps half Elven. What is known is that Calenor loved horses.

He loved them so much and they loved him in return that he could speak with them. At that time, in the hills north of Brethil, there were great herds of wild ponies. They were such a ferocious and wild breed that most thought them untamable. But Calenor, with soft words and gentle persuasion, won over the heart of the stallion Uricon.

Uricon was the leader of a herd of the wild ponies, and so wild was he that the people of that land also called him Merka Fea, which means one who is wild in spirit. But Uricon loved Calenor and Calenor loved him, so that eventually Uricon allowed Calenor to ride him.

Now Calenor was a poor man, and he had no way to make his living. So he pondered in his heart how to do so. The Men of Brethil and the North did not trust the wild ponies, and least of all Merka Fea. But in the South there were Men who had never heard of the wild ponies.

And so Calenor gathered together the herd of Uricon and he drove them Southward. They were of sturdy stock, with long tangled hair and strong hooves. Calenor drove them all South, into lands they had never seen before.

When he led them out of the hills, the ponies were wild with fright. Calenor spoke comfortingly to Uricon and the stallion was soothed, but his herd was not. So Calenor plucked a string from his cloak and unraveled all of the fabric.

He enchanted the string, so that none could break through it, then he tied all of the ponies together. He rode before them on Uricon and the ponies were forced to follow after.

It is not known how, but many of the ponies escaped into the wild. There they bred and their descendants still live there in the land between Brethil and the Shire.

Uricon became so tame and broken to his master's will that they no longer called him Merka Fea, but rather Rusva, which means one who is broken. Something in Uricon died when his spirit broke, and the stallion did not live out all of his days. Instead he lived under the care of Calenor for one year until he died.

Calenor himself, grieving the death of Uricon, lost the will to live. He died soon after and was buried in a mound which became known as Haudh Meleth Roch, which means Mound of the Lover of Horses."

Higgen would ask him questions as he talked, and Anduin would do his best to answer.

"Is Phaethon one of those descendants?"

"Yes, he is. His dame was a wild pony."

"And you said that he was also part Elven horse?"

"Yes, I bred his mother with a horse belonging to the Wild Elves."

"What is the difference between a Wild Elf, a Grey-Elf, and a Noldor Elf?"

"The Wild Elves dwell mainly in Mirkwood and the North. They are a splendid people, caring only for songs, feasts, and merriment. Not the wisest, but certainly the proudest, of Elves. The Grey-Elves are also called the Sindar. They refused to return across the Sea when the Valar went. The Sindar are a brave and a warrior people. The Noldor did return to Valinor, but there they rebelled and returned to this land. They are the gravest and wisest of all Elves. But, alas, almost that entire race is fallen."

"Which are your favorite?"

"I dwelt with the Wild Elves for many years, but Lord Elrond and his household are Grey-Elves."

"When did you dwell with the Wild Elves?"

"A long time ago." Anduin answered evasively.

"Why did you live with them?"

"I have said enough stories for today," Anduin said sharply. "The sun is going down." And with that he dismounted abruptly and pulled Higgen from Phaethon.

"Gather wood for a fire," Anduin said, more gently this time. The hobbit hurried to obey and Anduin unpacked food for their dinner. When he had gathered so much wood that he could carry no more, Higgen asked him again.

"Why did you live with the Wild Elves?" This time Anduin did not get angry. But he said nothing as he stacked the wood and light a fire.

"Tell me a story first," he said at length. He began to peel potatoes with his knife.

As it has been said before, Higgen enjoyed talking. He enjoyed stories as well, and so he was happy to launch into a story of Roaring Took, his ancestor on his father's side, who had been very tall (for a hobbit, that is).

And when he had finished his story of Roaring Took Higgen again asked:

"Why did you live with the Wild Elves?"

Anduin shook his head. "I've told you many stories, now it is your turn."

And so Higgen told a silly, childish story of Dryads and Nymphs. It was all very fanciful, but hobbits tended to enjoy such stories.

And when he had finished his story of the Wood Spirits Higgen asked once more:

"Why did you live with the Wild Elves?"

But Anduin still would not answer. "One more story and then I will tell you," he promised.

Higgen thought for a while, and then he told the ranger of the tree shepherds that were said to live in the woods of Buckland. Anduin listened and nodded, but Higgen could not draw out the ranger's crooked smile.

Then Higgen finished the telling of the tree shepherds (which had been a rather rushed and impatient story) he asked:

"Why did you live with the Wild Elves?"

At first Anduin was so quiet that the hobbit feared he would not answer him at all. The fire reflected in the ranger's blue eyes and cast dark shadows across his face.

"When I was a boy, I loved the Elves. I was fascinated by their merry songs and delighted feasting. I would spend hours at a time in the forest, and gradually the Elves came to know me. They loved to tease me, and called me Hen Adanedhel, little Elf-man.

My father's name is Alenor, son of Fanduin son of Calenor. When I was a boy he gave me this ring," Anduin slipped off the golden ring and showed it to Higgen. A golden pony was embossed on it, prancing across a range of hills. "I was to follow in his footsteps, for my father and my grandfather before him had taken up Calenor's profession. They drove the herds of ponies South each year, and each year returned with goods they had traded the ponies for.

I was in the woods with the Elves the day the orcs attacked my house. When I returned, my home had been burned to the ground and plundered. My mother, Ilia, was dead, slaughtered by the orcs.

There was a herd of ponies at my homestead at that time, when my father was just preparing for the long drive. Many of the ponies had escaped their pens, released by my father when the orcs attacked. He had saved them, only to watch my mother fall beneath the plunders' hands.

When my father Alenor learned where I had been, his wrath was great, kindled by his grief. In the middle of the smoldering remnants of our home he asked whom I loved more, the Elves or my family."

Here Anduin pause, lost in dark memories. Higgen waited a moment and then asked, "What did you say?"

"To choose one over the other," Anduin said horsely, "Would have been a lie. So I said nothing. My father cast me from his presence. But he was merciful.

He had my sister, Ilayilia, give me one of his ponies to ride and a small supply of food. The pony's name was Dhaeraow, the Traitor, so that I would always remember what I had become to my family. I was twelve years old.

Did you know, master hobbit, that horses can cry?" Higgen shook his head. "Dhaeraow did. She wept for the death of my mother, and her own banishment from her kin. She hated her new name, but I never had the heart to take it from her.

I fled to the Wild Elves and they sheltered their Hen Adanedhel. I lived under their roofs for many years and learned all that I could of their lore. They taught me the healing herbs and the art of archery. With them I learned the Sindarin tongue, which is the Elven language. But the Wild Elves care not for sorrow and little for revenge and so I was lost among them.

The only time I ever saw the Wild Elves sad was when Hen Adanedhel rode South on his pony Dhaeraow and never returned."


	6. 6 The Attack

**The Attack**

That night was filled with the sound of howls and growling.

"Stay in the firelight," Anduin warned. Then he gather another armful of firewood and added it to the blaze.

"Are they wolves?" Higgen asked nervously.

"No, they are wargs," Anduin replied, stirring the fire with a branch.

"What is a warg?"

"It is much worse than a wolf," Anduin said, and the hobbit shuddered. "Stay in the firelight, they fear it. If you step one foot outside of it they will hunt you, but fire makes them cowards."

Higgen woke up in the middle of the night with a hand wrapped around his face.

"Be still and silent," Anduin hissed in his ear. "Whoever was following us caught up."

Higgen nodded, terrified, and he tried so hard to be quiet that he almost forgot to breathe. Anduin had saddle and mounted Phaethon in a trice and the fire was starting to burn low.

"What about wargs?" Higgen whispered as the ranger pulled him into the saddle.

"I'd rather face the known than the unknown." The past three days they had headed east, always into the rising sun. But now when the sunrise came, it was to the right of them.

"Are we not going to Rivendell?" The hobbit asked when they stopped to rest Phaethon.

"No, we are," Anduin answered, taking a swig of water from the sack. "But for someone following us to have caught up so quickly, they would have had to know where we are headed."

"Couldn't we just outrun them and then we wouldn't have to worry about them?"

"Rivendell must be kept safe," Anduin said firmly. "We cannot use the crossings of Elrand safely."

"Is there another way to Rivendell, then?" Higgen asked nervously as they set off again.

"The Summer Ford," the ranger answered. "In the north. It can only be used by those who know exactly where it is, and only in the summer."

"Why?"

"Because winter melt and spring rain flood the river. The water there is deep, much deeper than any other ford. But a strong horse can cross it in the summer."

"Is it safe?"

"No," Anduin replied. "But it is secret."

"How much longer will it take to get there?"

"We should cross the ford before nightfall, and from there it is another day's journey to the valley of Rivendell."

They rode on in silence for a little while, and Higgen didn't even ask about extra meals, even though they hadn't had breakfast. The sun was overhead, but the hobbit (who didn't really care much for time except for mealtimes) couldn't have said whether it was afternoon or late morning. His stomach grumbled, but this time Anduin didn't smile or laugh or offer him some food.

"It is my food, after all," the hobbit thought to himself. And then, "Oh how I wish I was home in my hobbit hole!"

Suddenly Phaethon stopped abruptly, so that Higgen was almost thrown. "What is it boy?" Anduin asked, but Phaethon just began to fidget and paw the ground. "What do you smell?" Anduin asked the horse, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

And then Higgen saw them. Foul, mutilated creatures carrying rusty and crude (but still very sharp) weapons. The hobbit gave a little cry of fear and disgust, but by then the creatures were upon them.

Anduin pulled his sword from its sheath and whirled it about. The metal sang and the orcs stepped back in hesitation. But something, or someone, goaded them on and they surged forward to surround Phaethon.

The stallion snorted, turning this way and that. He kicked out at any orcs who came to close to his hooves, and the creatures fell with crushed heads and limbs. Phaethon reared, pawing the air, and his eyes were furious and frightened.

Higgen, who had barely had time to even consider holding on tighter, fell off and into the arms of an orc. The creature gave a grunt of surprise and delight before trying to make off with his prize.

Anduin slashed out about him, felling many orcs in one blow. But when he saw the struggling hobbit being carried away, he leapt from Phaethon's back and into the thick of the orcs. He hurled his curved hunting knife at the back of the hobbit's captor and the orc fell on top of Higgen.

The orcs took advantage of Anduin's loss of concentration as he saved the hobbit. One of them smashed Anduin's leg and the ranger went down with a cry. The orcs swarmed over him, so that his disappeared from Higgen's sight.

The little hobbit was trapped fast under the orc and he cried out when Anduin was lost to his eyes. But Phaethon trumpeted in rage and began to pull orcs off of the pile with his teeth.

A blade flashed out and up, spearing an orc at the top of the heap. And then Anduin himself burst forth and with a great shout laid all the orcs low. The ranger caught an orc who had been knocked to the side of the battle by Phaethon's kick and held his hair in his left hand. His right held a blade to the orc's throat.

"Who sent you?" He snarled. "Speak falsely and I will make your death unimaginable pain."

"No one," the orc rasped. Anduin allowed his sword to bite the neck of the orc so that a trickle of blood ran down. "My lord, we were not sent," the orc said hastily.

"Were you following us?"

"No," the orc whispered. "We came down from the mountains seeking plunder." Anduin said nothing, but released the orc and kicked him. The orc stumbled to his feet and scurried away, clutching his throat. Anduin watched him run, and when he was almost under the tree cover, he drew his bow and arrow.

The orc never reached the trees. But his death was swift and relatively painless.

"You killed him," Higgen said in disbelief.

"He would have killed us," Anduin answered, his voice level and empty of emotion. "Orcs are vengeful creatures. I don't want to have to look over my shoulder all the way to Rivendell."


	7. 7 The Coming into Rivendell

A/N: The song Anduin sings is "Among the Leaves So Green-O." The first four verses are from the traditional ballad. The final three are by Jack Splittard and more commonly known as "The Hunter".

**The Coming into Rivendell**

The ranger's leg was twisted in a contorted and painful way. Now it hung loosely, useless off of Phaethon. Anduin guided the horse solely with his right leg.

"You're hurt," the hobbit said with concern.

"I've been through worse," Anduin answered, "so don't worry. Besides, Elrond is a skillful healer."

Anduin had changed course yet again after the orc attack. "I don't want whoever is following us to use that as a track," he explained.

"So you think the orc was telling the truth?" the hobbit asked.

"I think he would have said anything to save his neck," the ranger said. "But no, the orcs were not following us. You saw how their reek upset Phaethon, he would have warned us if the orcs were following."

By the time the sun was setting beyond the trees, they had reached the bank of a swiftly flowing river. "The Elrand," Anduin told the hobbit. "Here is the Summer Ford."

"It looks awfully fast," Higgen said fearfully.

"Yes, well," Anduin said, dismounting. "Phaethon can only carry one at a time across the river. You go first, with the supplies. Hold on tight, whatever happens. He's good and strong, but he might have to swim for it."

Higgen clutched the horses mane in both his hands and gripped tightly with his knees, just as Anduin had taught him. "I'm ready."

"Good. Don't touch the reins," the ranger warned. "Phaethon knows where he is going and it's best just to trust him."

The river swirled around them, icy cold and clutching. Higgen held on with all of his might, despite the insistent tug of the water. It was so cold that Higgen's teeth began to chatter halfway across.

Luckily, Phaethon didn't have to swim. He climbed up the far shore dripping, and then he shook fat drops of water from his mane. Higgen turned to smile at Anduin, proud of his own bravery, when he heard the crash.

It was as though something had cracked a tree in half. When Higgen looked back, he saw a monstrous being, that looked like an orc the size of the trees. The hobbit was terrified, but then comforted by the swift flowing black water between the troll and himself. But then he remembered Anduin.

The ranger stood alone on the far bank, diminutive next to the troll. Anduin drew his sword, but the troll smacked him aside. The ranger hit a tree with such a force that the tree trembled, and then he lay unmoving.

The troll had a sword of his own, a tremendous length of iron. He swung it over his head and the hobbit almost couldn't bear to watch. But then when the troll swung down his sword, Anduin sprang alive, rolling out of the way. The sword lodged fast in the tree and the troll grunted in surprise. Anduin jumped on the troll's arm and began to climb up.

Now the troll was confused and he straightened up. The ranger clung to the stupid creature's shoulder and with a great shout he pierced its neck. The troll groaned and fell forward with a loud crash, and Anduin was thrown into the river.

Higgen dropped down from Phaethon and ran to the bank, but the ranger had disappeared in the water. "No," the little hobbit whispered. "No! Anduin! Anduin here!Please, come here!" He waited in breathless fear, but no black head broke the water.

Suddenly, far downstream, the ranger burst up from the water, gasping for air. Higgen shrieked in delight and jumped up and down, waving his arms. "Anduin! Here, over here!"

The ranger turned and swam upstream, fighting the mighty current. At last his feet found the riverbed and he struggled to stand. The hobbit waded into the water to help, but Anduin's leg seemed to give out and he sank into the water. He waited there, on hands and knees in the river, until Higgen came and half dragged him form the water.

The ranger lay on the shore and coughed up water. Phaethon nudged him with worry, but Anduin pushed his head away. "Water," he said horsely.

Higgen jumped up and, finding the water sack almost empty, filled it in the river. Anduin sipped the water gratefully, but then he sank back with a groan. Higgen didn't know what to do, so he built a fire near to Anduin and began to make supper.

"Higgen," Anduin said at length.

"I'm here," the hobbit answered, scurrying to the hurt man's side.

"Go into my bag. Get out a silver blue bag about this big" he gestured. The hobbit hurried to obey, tearing out a great many things in his haste. At last he found the bag and he carried it to Anduin.

"Open it," Anduin ordered. Higgen undid the strings that tied the flaps together and unrolled the bag. Inside were many little pockets arranged in rows with words in a strange language labeling them. "Third row, fifth pocket," Anduin held out his hand.

Inside that pocket were many tiny seeds that were black. "Just a pinch," Anduin said, and so Higgen reached his fingers in and gathered the seeds. He placed them in the ranger's hand and Anduin poured the seeds into his mouth. Higgen folded up the bag and put it away.

"Hobbit," Anduin said, "I will sleep now. You are safe on this side of the river."

"What about you?" The little hobbit asked, but Anduin began to breath deeply and steadily, so he did not wake him. Instead he undressed and put on clean warm clothes. He laid his wet ones by the fire and he ate his supper. When the first stars began to appear, Higgen lay down and fell fast asleep.

In the morning it was Higgen who woke first. The birds were already up and singing and Phaethon was by the water drinking. Anduin was still asleep, but the hobbit made breakfast for the two of them.

Higgen touched the sleeping man's shoulder and Anduin woke with a groan. He declined breakfast, but allowed the hobbit to eat his share.

"We must get moving," Anduin said at last. "We must get to Rivendell tonight." He rose slowly to his feet and whistled to Phaethon. The pony came trotting and allowed Anduin to lean heavily upon him.

Somehow Anduin pulled himself into the saddle, but he could not lift Higgen up. The little hobbit scampered, his feet gripping for support, and at last he sat in front of Anduin.

"The Elf watchmen have a song, by which they warn each other," Anduin said as he nudged Phaethon into a walk. "Every song is different for every person, so that those in Rivendell may know who is approaching. I have my own song, and by this I can let them know who and where I am. But we are still too far away and my voice is almost gone."

But as they walked, the ranger began to sing, occasionally pausing and listening.

"_The keeper did a hunting go,_

_Under his cloak he carried a bow_

_For to catch a merry little doe_

_Among the leaves so green-o_

_The first doe she did cross the plain_

_The keeper fetched her back again_

_Where she is now, she may remain_

_Among the leaves so green-o._

_To my hey down down_

And here he paused, as though waiting for someone to pick up the song.

_Hey down..._ a pause

_Derry derry down, _

_Among the leaves so green-o._

_The next doe she did cross the brook_

_He brought her back with his hook_

_Where she is now, you may go look_

_Among the leaves so green-o._

_The keeper did a hunting go_

_In the woods he caught a doe_

_She looked so sad he let her go_

_Among the leaves so green-o_

_To my hey down down... _he paused yet again.

_Hey down..._ and again.

_Derry derry down,_

_Among the leaves so green-o._

_The hunter went across the plain_

_And then he ventured home again_

_The merry merry feast will soon begin_

_Among the leaves so green-o._

_The hunter is a merry sight_

_His hearth is warm and his fire is bright_

_His songs, they fill the winter's night_

_Among the leaves so green-o_

_To my hey down down... _an echo answered in the distance, "Ho down down"

_Hey down!_ "Ho down!" and then together:

_Derry derry down._

_Among the leaves so green-o._

Higgen pricked his ears hopefully. Anduin continued singing, but now he was joined by three or more voices that sang out strong from the nearby trees.

_Tis merry we are_ _and merry we'll stay_

_We'll sing a toast 'till the break of day_

_And then we'll go along our way_

_Among the leaves so green-o!"_

Although the other voices (and it seemed that more and more would join in with every verse) continued to sing, Anduin stopped. He let Phaethon's reins go loose, but the pony seemed to know where to go. He came to the edge of a cliff and, placing his hooves with great care, he climbed down a narrow path.

Higgen wished he could have seen the valley better, for he could see that is was lovely and beautiful, but Anduin slumped forward and it was everything the hobbit could do to keep the ranger from falling.

Elves walked in the woods next to the path, and they followed paths in the trees that led down into the valley. A long narrow bridge ran from the cliff face over a river, but Phaethon was surefooted and crossed easily.

At last they came to a courtyard, where a great many elves had gathered. Higgen stared at the fair folk, taking in their long hair and piercing grey eyes. They all wore long and thick robes and went barefoot.

An Elf with dark brown hair stepped forward and helped Higgen down from the saddle. Another Elf came forward and held Phaethon's reins. Anduin slipped down from the saddle when an Elf came to greet him, but he collapsed into the Elf's arms.

At once the Elves sprang into action. The brown haired one grabbed one of Anduin's arms and draped it over his shoulder. The Elf who had come to greet Anduin took his other arm and with the ranger between them they half carried and half dragged the Man away.

Higgen looked around, overwhelmed by the hustle around him: Elves were running everywhere and someone was leading Phaethon away.

"Phaethon!" The hobbit cried, reaching his arms out hopelessly.

"They'll take him to the stables," Higgen turned around and saw another Elf. This one seemed to be an oasis in the rush, surrounded by a group of Elves. He seemed to be a little older than the others and he had light brown hair tied in gold.

"I think you and I, halfling, had better have a talk," the Elf said. He extended his hand and Higgen, feeling very lost, took it. The Elf led him away, along spacious airy hallways that seemed to grow from the very trees. He took him at last into a room filled with bookshelves.

"What is your name?" The Elf asked kindly, gesturing to a chair.

"Higgen Took," the hobbit said, nervously sitting on the edge of the chair. "But, forgive me, will Anduin be all right?"

"You tell me," the Elf said, cocking his eyebrow. "I've no idea what's wrong with him."

"We were attacked," the hobbit began, but the Elf shook his head.

"That is not the way to begin a story," he smiled. "You must start when you met Anduin." And so Higgen told him everything, from getting lost on his way home from Bree to the night spent by the river.

"These seeds he ate, what did they look like?" The Elf ask and his voice was very grave.

"Small and black."

"A little like poppy seeds, would you say?"

"Well, a bit bigger than that," the hobbit said, wondering why on earth this would be of any importance.

A/N: I chose the song "Among the Leaves so Green-o" because it reminds me of the Wild-Elves, whom Anduin lived with. The Elves of Rivendell identified him by this song because the Hunter, or Keeper (Anduin), in it goes out from his home (Rivendell) and returns again. Also, the Hunter is merciful and merry like Anduin.


	8. 8 Healing

**Healing**

The Elves laid Anduin, groaning, on the bed. They unbuckled his leather jerkin and laid it aside. As they pulled his black shirt over his head, Anduin moaned softly and went limp in their arms.

"Unconscious," one Elf declared, lifting up the Man's eyelid. Then the Elves took Anduin and bathed him before laying him back on the bed.

A large bruise had blossomed across Anduin's back and side. The Elves were covering this with a thick, yellow-green paste when Elrond entered.

"How is he?" He asked softly. He walked over to where they had placed Anduin's clothing and began searching through it. When he found the small brown sack, Elrond placed it in the hands of an Elf and sent him to his study.

"Internal bleeding all along his back and side," an Elf said, pointing to where the paste was. "And two broken ribs."

"From the troll," Elrond said. Then he laid his hands over the broken ribs and began to mutter a healing spell. Anduin stirred at this, for in his sleep he recognized Elrond's touch.

"Elrond," he muttered, lifting his head. "Elrond..."

"Peace," the Elf lord said. "Sleep now." With this he laid his hand on Anduin's brow and the ranger fell into a painless, dreamless sleep.

"He burns with a fever," Elrond said softly. He took a wet cloth and bathed Anduin's brow with it.

"My lord," another Elf said. "His leg..." Elrond drew the blanket over Anduin except for his left leg. It was twisted in pain, knots straining under his skin and both foot and ankle curled in a pained contraction. Elrond shook his head and passed his hands over the leg. He did this again and again, for even after the fever had broken the leg was still stiff and unyielding. At last, with the help of herbs and runes, Elrond succeeded in making the muscles of the leg relax so that it went limp against the sheets.

When Anduin opened his eyes, sunlight filled them. He was in a bright, airy room and lying on a clean bed. When he tried to sit up, his head spun and his ribs protested. Anduin groaned, lifting a hand to run through his hair. It had been washed and combed.

"Easy. Elrond only set your ribs," a voice said. "You look terrible." An Elf was sitting in a chair facing Anduin. He had long, blond hair and smiling grey eyes. Anduin cracked his crooked smile at the Elf.

"I don't doubt it," Anduin said. "How's Higgen?"

"The hobbit? Taking in everything his eyes and ears can see."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long enough," the Elf answered. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday."

"Oh yes, the seeds from the poppies of the North," the Elf rebuked. "Elrond told us about those. You could have died with a few more."

"I was in pain, I wasn't thinking clearly," Anduin mumbled. "I had to get Higgen to Rivendell. It was important."

"So important you risked your life four times?"

"Eliohad, you are always too harsh with me," Anduin sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"I know too well the frailty of Men," the Elf said, standing. "When was the last time you slept before the poppy seeds?"

"Don't remember," Anduin mumbled. Eliohad sighed in exasperation and he pulled a walking stick from behind his back.

"If you insist on getting up, you're going to need this," he said. "If your leg was hurting this much you should have come to see Elrond sooner."

"It wasn't hurting this much before," Anduin sighed.

"Here, get dressed," Eliohad said and passed him some folded clothes.


	9. 9 Labadal

**Labadal**

The water tumbled from the top and the cliff and fell down into the river below. The rock around the fall was covered in thick green moss and little white flowers. Higgen was utterly enchanted by everything had had seen in Rivendell.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A familiar voice said. Higgen turned and saw Anduin, wearing long pale robes like the Elves. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick but he seemed happy and well.

"Anduin!" the hobbit yelled and threw himself at the man, hugging him about the knees.

"Whoa there," the ranger laughed. "my leg isn't healed." Higgen stepped away, blushing. Now he saw the Elf who was with Anduin.

All of the Elves were a very fair people, but this man seemed fairer still. His golden hair was long and smooth and was tied back out of his face. His grey eyes danced with amusement and a smile tugged the corner of his lips.

"Higgen Took, this is my very dear friend Eliohad," Anduin said. The hobbit nodded, but in front of the fair Elf he could not find the words to speak.

"I'll leave you in the care of your little friend, Labadal" the Elf laughed. He nodded to Higgen and clapped Anduin on the shoulder so hard that the ranger Man grimaced. When the Elf walked away, Higgen seized Anduin's hand and pulled him over to a nearby bench.

"Are you all right?" He asked with concern.

"I'm fine," Anduin assured him. "A little tender, but otherwise fine."

"That Elf..."

"Eliohad?" Anduin asked.

"He called you something," Higgen said slowly. "I didn't recognize."

"Labadal," Anduin said. "It means cripple or lame one."

"That is very cruel!" The hobbit hadn't meant to shout, but Anduin flashed his crooked smile at him.

"It was given to me in pity not cruelty," he explained softly. "It is what I am known by among all Elves. Only Elrond calls me Anduin."

"How did you hurt your leg?" Higgen asked tentatively. Anduin's expression darkened and his eyes flashed.

"I was young at the time," he said. "And camping deep in the wild, up near the Misty Mountains. I had Dhaeraow with me and her foal Phaethon.

Goblins attacked in the night. I tried to defend myself, but I was badly wounded. Dhaeraow herself died protecting Phaethon. I'll admit, the only reason I survived that night was the coming of the day. Goblin's can't stand the sunlight.

My leg had been mutilated and I could barely stand for loss of blood. Somehow I dragged myself southward, always southward. When I reached a river I collapsed, prepared to let the water have me.

Eliohad and his party of Elves found me, lying half dead in the ford of Elrand. Eliohad carried me back to Rivendell and Elrond tended me. I spent a year here, healing and learning how to walk. From then on the Elves called me Labadal."

"What happened to Phaethon when you came south?" Higgen asked.

"Followed me, the fool!" Anduin laughed. "I was always a second mother to him." Then leaning in close to Higgen, as though to tell him a great secret, he whispered, "he thinks I'm a horse, you know."

"No he doesn't!" the hobbit laughed. "Does he?"

"No, he is not as stupid as that," Anduin laughed. "But I expect that he loves me, if only because I am Calenor's heir."


	10. 10 A Quest

**A Quest**

"Lord Elrond wishes to see you," an Elf-maiden said. Anduin looked up from where he was sitting with Eliohad and Higgen. He stood up and Eliohad made to go with him but the woman shook her head. "Only Labadal," she said.

Anduin looked back over his shoulder and gestured to Eliohad, "Havo dad." _(Sit down)._

Eliohad sat slowly. Anduin turned back to the Elf maiden, "Amin am desiel" _(I am ready)._

She led him through the halls of Rivendell and into the study of Elrond. Most rooms in Rivendell had no walls, only slender columns supporting lofty ceilings, but this rooms had walls of books.

"Lord Elrond," Anduin said, bowing.

"Come in, we have much to discuss." Anduin bowed again and entered the room. The Elf maiden smiled at him and left. "My scout says you did everything you could to lose him."

"Your scout?" Anduin said, coming to a realization. "Why would you have me followed?"

"Because you were bringing this to Rivendell," Elrond said, and he picked up the piece of metal Anduin had brought.

"Do you know what this is?" Elrond asked. He was wearing gloves and turning the piece of metal over in his hand.

"Only that it is of great evil," Anduin replied, leaning back against the bookshelves.

"It is a piece of the shield of Morgoth." Anduin froze, staring in sudden fear at the lump of metal.

"That shield was destroyed," he said at length.

"Destroyed? No," Elrond frowned, placing the metal on the table. "No, it was broken apart and taken to the ends of the world, but not destroyed:

Ar' iire danath-Morgoth _And when Morgoth was fallen_

Ro sanca mor tinechor _They broke apart his black shield_

Ar naia roquen aut et _And commanded horsemen to go forth_

Ilye norcyll methid en-amar _Each rider to the ends of the Earth_

Caul duath awartha _Abandoned their burden of darkness_

Rhun, Forven, Harad, Dun _To the East, the North, the South, and the West_

Fhach tinechor nadoltha ten'oio _Let the cursed shield be hidden forever_

"And they thought the Shire was the end of the world?" Anduin asked, incredulous.

"You must remember, Anduin," Elrond said. "That all of this occurred before the Shire was settled. And I do not know how or why this piece came into the Halfling's land."

"But why now?" Anduin asked. "Why out of nowhere would the shield's malice awaken?"

"There are rumors in the South," Elrond said slowly, his back to the ranger. "Whispers of a Nameless Fear."

"I would not believe that Sauron's strength would awaken the shield until the Nazgul themselves rode forth," Anduin scoffed.

"The dragon Smaug is in the East," Elrond replied. "I am told he has taken up a residence on the Lonely Mountain."

"Smaug? Well, his father was Glaurung, vile dragon that hosted the spirit of Morgoth," Anduin admitted. "But why should a dragon care of the Shire, especially when he dwells in the far East? The hobbits own no wealth."

"Golwen lle eithel." (_I have taught you well_) Elrond said, turning with a smile. "But still you do not see what is in front of you. Who would have the most direct connection with the shield? Who would be able to summon its powers?"

"Morgoth is dead."

"You cannot kill the Valar," Elrond said, shaking his head. "No, not even Morgoth who took a mortal body. They can be banished and bound, but not killed. I fear Morgoth might try and use the shield as his bodily presence."

"If the Shadow rises again," Anduin said slowly. "Then Middle-Earth will fall. The Eldar race could not withstand him, and Men will be overcome more swiftly than they."

"If the shield was destroyed..." Elrond began. When Anduin said nothing he continued, "but first it must be bound together again."

"If the shield is whole, Morgoth will seize the opportunity to rise," Anduin argued.

"It must be done swiftly," Elrond warned. "The four pieces must be brought from the ends of the world and united in the place they were rent asunder. If the piece from the Shire is this strong, then no doubt the others will have gathered their own great evil."

"You wish me to unite the pieces?" Anduin asked, suddenly understanding.

"Yes, I wish that."

"I have never left the West," Anduin said. "How can I go to the ends of the Earth? My lord," Anduin hesitated, "there are many other bolder, braver Men and any Elf would be better suited..."

"I wish you to go," Elrond said forcefully. Anduin stopped and considered Elrond for a moment.

"Man cenich?" (_What did you see?_) He demanded suddenly.

"What?"

"You have looked into my future with your foresight," Anduin insisted. "What did you see there?"

"I saw you leading a company of Elves," Elrond said. "I saw you uniting the pieces."

"There is more," Anduin demanded, but Elrond hesitated.

"There was no more," the Elf said at length. "Anduin, Hen Adanedhel, this is the path before you. You must walk it." Anduin started when Elrond called him by his childhood name.

"How can I walk a path obscured by Shadow?" he asked finally. "How can a Man thwart the evil devices of Morgoth?"

"He must bring a light with him."


	11. 11 The Journey is Blessed

**The Journey is Blessed**

"U! Ablad ha!" (_No! I forbid it!_) Anduin yelled at Eliohad.

"Im am him inas (_I am too stubborn_) Eliohad smiled. "I will follow you if you leave without me."

"Your will is ever unyielding," Anduin growled. "I will yield, although it is against my will."

"You're leaving?" Higgen had come up behind Anduin as he argued with Eliohad. The ranger looked down at the hobbit with a troubled look in his blue eyes.

"Gwanna ammen," (_Leave us_) he told the Elf. Then taking Higgen's hand he led him to a bench within the hall.

"I must go," Anduin explained softly. "That thing you discovered, it is of great evil. And there are more like it. They must be gathered and destroyed."

"You can't go alone!" the hobbit protested.

"Elrond is sending half a score of Elves with me," Anduin reassured him.

"No!" Higgen shouted. "I mean, you can't just leave me!"

"Even if I returned to the wild, you would go back to Tooktown and we would be parted," Anduin said in confusion. The hobbit blushed all the way up to his ears.

"But, but I can't just let you go off adventuring on your own."

"I thought you considered adventures very disreputable," Anduin laughed.

"Please take me with you!"

"No," Anduin said gently but firmly. "It is too far and too dangerous."

"Where are you going?" Higgen asked.

"To Isengard first, so that we may discover the other locations of the fragments."

"Well, I'll at least go there with you."

"It's a long way," Anduin said. "Farther than any hobbit has ever been."

"I can help! I can ride a pony of my own, and you can teach me swordplay, and I am a very good cook!"

"Anno gaf hon tolo," (_Give him permission to come_). Elrond had come down the passage as they had been talking.

"Ho na caul," (_He will be a burden_), Anduin said.

"Ho na galu," (_He will be a blessing_), Elrond countered. "Lle anira calad, im anno ha lle." (_You asked for a light, I give it to you_). With that Elrond pulled a sword from beneath his cloak and held it out to Anduin.

"It is called Elenath, but that was not always its name," Elrond told him. "Sana sina crist, ar sana sina perian. Ah ti lend na galu." (_Take this sword, take this them the journey is blessed._)

"Im na'anirion andelu," (_I will not endanger him_). Anduin argued.

"Please," Elrond said. Anduin looked into the Elf-lord's grey eyes and in there he saw great sadness and pity.

"Labadal henia le," (_Labadal understands you_).


	12. 12 Leaving the Last Homely House

**Leaving the Last Homely House**

On the third day since they had come to Rivendell, Anduin and Higgen were ready to leave. They were accompanied by Eliohad and twenty other Elves. Higgen watched the Elves as they mounted their horses, all of which were white and tall.

"Here," Anduin's voice said. Higgen turned around quickly and saw the ranger standing there with a round bay pony. "Her name is Belladonna, and she is one of my very own."

"I didn't know you owned ponies," the hobbit said in amazement, looking at the pony.

"She is not one of the Rhaw Nur, the wild breed descended from Uricon the Merka Fea," Anduin said, patting the ponies cheek. "But she is good and rusva, broken."

"Where did you get her?"

"I caught her in the wild and brought her here," Anduin told him. "She is too gentle for that land. Hurry up, you're the one who wanted to come." Higgen rushed over and clambered onto Belladonna. She was very round, but easily guided and sedate.

"Now this is a funny thing," Higgen said. "I've a sister named Belladonna."

"Really?" Anduin asked. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Twelve." The hobbit's answer startled a laugh out of the ranger.

Anduin left him then and went to Phaethon who stood saddled and waiting. He murmured something in the horse's ear and Phaethon twitched his ears toward the sound of his voice. Higgen noticed that Anduin had replaced his old sword with Elenath, Elrond's parting gift.

The hobbit watched as Anduin mounted his horse and gave a signal to the Elves. They fell into line behind him and Higgen had to hurry to reach the end of the line.

"Si a vanya as mare orelyar! Namarie, ar nai aistale Eldar hilya le! Eleni silar antalyannar!" (_Go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves follow you! Stars shine upon your faces!_) Elrond called as the party made its way across the bridge and up the cliff.

When they were far out of sight, Elrond let tears fall. "Dan, u-eveditham, nin mellon." (_We shall not meet again, my friend_).


	13. 13 Gwindor and Thrimich

**Gwindor and Thrimich**

"How far is Isengard?" Higgen asked. He had discovered that Elves had never heard of second breakfast or elevens' and had no interest in indulging in the pleasure of these meals. Higgen could not see how any civilized race could get along with only three meals in a day.

"Don't you day start that "are we there yet?" business," and Elf warned him. The hobbit recognized him as the brown-haired Elf who had helped him that first day in Rivendell. "Or I will personally tie you in a sack and send you home."

"I wasn't going to ask if we were there yet!" The hobbit yelled hot-temperedly. (It might be noted that this was a lie). "I just wanted to know how long it would take!"

"About forty days," the Elf answered. "Or more, if Labadal still insists on going so slowly. He's worried about his pony's short legs."

"His pony must walk for the both of us!" Anduin called back from the front of the line. "And if you insult his legs one more time, I will make you carry both him and me, Thrimich!"

"Well-marked!" the Elf, Thrimich, called back. "He would you know," he said in a conspiratorial tone to the hobbit, "he can't stand an insult to that half-breed."

"Phaethon is a good and noble horse," Higgen answered hotly.

"I know he is," Thrimich said quickly. "But he is also a disobedient and tricky pony on his mother's side."

"Ignore him," another Elf told Higgen. "Labadal told him not to try and ride Phaethon. It was his own fault he fell off." The hobbit began to laugh and Thrimich assumed a wounded expression.

"I am called Gwindor," the Elf said.

"Higgen Took," the hobbit answered. "Will it really take all of forty days?"

"Well, Thrimich was right that it might take more. But Anduin knows the wild ways better than almost all," Gwindor said.

"And what is at Isengard that is so important?"

"A library of great learning. Elrond hopes that there we may discover texts on where the other three fragments of the shield were taken."

"Higgen!" Anduin called back. The hobbit started and urged Belladonna forward. Anduin had stopped the entire line of Elves so that Higgen had to ride past all of them. The ranger was at the front of the column with Eliohad at his side.

"Yes?" Higgen panted, arriving somewhat out of breath.

"I told you he could ride," Anduin said to Eliohad. The Elf sighed and handed the Man a coin. Anduin turned and smiled at Higgen.

"Mind you, I didn't bet that you could ride well, or I would have lost my bet," he said critically. The hobbit felt the blush creep up his neck and ears. "I'll have to work on that. Come here and ride on my right, I will teach you. Soon you will ride even better than me."

The day passed uneventfully, but the progress was slow. Anduin sometimes would have to dismount and lead Phaethon by hand over the stony ground. Sometimes he would shout out commands and advice to Higgen.

"Give her her head! Good, now lean back as you go down this slope. Mind that rock. Now, tell her "up"."

Higgen soon had the hang of riding the pony, for she was more cautious than Phaethon and responded well to spoken commands. She was so short, though, that Anduin was able to ruffle the hobbit's hair when he did something well. But Higgen didn't mind; he enjoyed the ranger's attention.

"We'll stop here for the night!" Anduin yelled when they came to a shallow dip in the land. It was lined in grass and sheltered from the wind. "Tend to your horses!"

The Elves were excellent cooks; so much so that Higgen found himself blushing at his own offer to cook for Anduin in return for being taken along. He wondered yet again what Elrond had said to Anduin that made him change his mind.

A few of the Elves had brought harps with them, and they began to sing as the stars filled the sky. Gwindor and Thrimich sat beside him and translated the words into Common tongue.

It was a silly song and seemed to make a great deal of fun of Elrond. "They do not sing it in Rivendell," Thrimich told him. "Because Elrond would probably be furious. Almost half of what is in it is false." Higgen could hardly believe that the other half was true.


	14. 14 The Traitor's Ring

**The Traitor's Ring**

The days passed uneventfully, with Anduin teaching Higgen riding in the day and Gwindor and Thrimich teaching him swordplay in the night.

At night, Anduin seemed unapproachable, save by Eliohad. The two would sit on the edge of the firelight, talking quietly or saying nothing at all. One night, Higgen saw Anduin sitting alone, looking down into his hands.

The hobbit had started toward him but an Elf held him back. "Leave Labadal be. He has his own griefs." The Elf's name was Saerid, and he was graver than Gwindor, Thrimich, and Eliohad. Higgen supposed that this was because Saerid was older than the other Elves.

Higgen sat down with the Elves but he did not listen to their conversation. Rather, he watched Anduin, who seemed blind and deaf to all around him. When the Elves had gone to bed, Anduin still stayed up, staring at his hands.

Now, hobbits are naturally curious people and Tooks are the very worst of them. Higgen got up from his bedroll quietly and crept over to where Anduin was sitting.

"What are you doing?" he whispered. Anduin jumped and had half-drawn his sword before he saw who had addressed him.

"Did no one stop you from coming to me?" He asked, and Higgen could not see his face in the shadows.

"They are all asleep," he said, fearfully drawing back. Anduin looked around, as though just noticing it was night.

"I was watching."

"Watching what?" The hobbit shivered, and Anduin sat down with a sigh. He pulled the hobbit close to his side and draped his cloak over him.

"My family." Higgen looked up at Anduin in wonder.

"How?" he asked. Anduin held up his hand, and the ruby ring reflected the starlight.

"Look," the ranger said, and so Higgen stared at the flashing gemstone. Then he realized it wasn't just reflecting the starlight, but inside the ruby's depths was a light. Higgen stared at it mesmerized and almost thought he saw pictures bathed in a red light.

An old man, sitting at a hearth fire. His hair was grey and his face was weathered and sorrowful.

A young woman, smiling and laughing. She placed a hand over her swollen belly and talked with someone Higgen couldn't see.

Suddenly the images stopped. Higgen blinked rapidly and stared at the ruby ring. Anduin had taken his arm from around the hobbit's shoulder and sat, staring at the stars.

"Who were they?" Anduin looked down and Higgen saw his blue eyes shining with tears in the night. The people in the pictures had the same eyes.

"My father Alenor and my sister Ilayilia," Anduin answered. "The ring was given to me by Elrond, so that I could see my family but they would never have to look on Dhaeraow, the one who betrayed his family."

With that Anduin stood up and went to where Eliohad was sleeping. The Elf woke and, seeing his friends face, put a comforting arm around him. Eliohad began to sing a very soft song, almost a lullaby, and Anduin fell asleep next to the Elf.

As they were setting off in the morning, Eliohad summoned Higgen to him.

"Ride with me a while, Master Took," he said. He did not wait for an answer, but grabbed Belladonna's reins and pulled her to the back of the column.

"What did you do last night?" The Elf asked in a hot whisper. "Rarely have I seen Labadal so upset."

"I asked him about his ring..." Higgen began, utterly flustered.

"You did what?" The Elf demanded. "Have you no idea of the pain it causes him?"

"I didn't know that it was about his family, or I wouldn't have asked!" the hobbit said. "I was curious..."

"Curious?" The Elf said hotly. "Curious about his family? I can tell you the rest of the story, the part Labadal has told no one but me. If I do, you must swear never to be curious about his family ever again."

"I promise," Higgen said in a small voice.

"The day his father disowned him many hurtful things were said. His father called him Dhaeraow sereg, traitor of blood. Alenor swore that if his eyes ever beheld his son again, he would go blind.

Years later, as Labadal watched his ring, he saw his sister wed. He wanted to see Ilayilia again, for she had always been gentle and kind to him. So Labadal took gifts for her, a golden Elven cloak and a goblet wrought by Maeglin.

But when he came to the home of Ilayilia, his sister was not there. Instead, his father was tending her house. When he saw Labadal coming toward him he was enveloped in a blindness and by this he recognized his son.

They might have forgiven each other then and there, but when Alenor learned the origin of the gifts, he threw them and his son from the house. Ilayilia never knew her brother had come to visit her.

Does it give you any pleasure that your curiosity is satisfied?" The Elf finished.

"No," Higgen replied softly, but a question still gnawed at him. "Why does his father hate the Elves?"

"The Elves were supposed to stop the orcs from coming over the mountain," Eliohad said, more softly. "In Alenor's eyes, their failure caused Ilia's death."

"Isengard!" Saerid cried out from where he rode towards the beginning of the line of riders.


	15. 15 Isengard

**Isengard**

"Saruman," Anduin said, touching his fist to his forehead in a sign of respect. "Elrond son of Earendil and lord of Imladris sends his greetings to Saruman Istar. He reminds him of a debt owed in the appointing of Saruman as leader of the White Council."

"I remember the debt," the wizard said coldly. "Why has he sent one of the Self-Cursed to remind me of old news?"

Although Higgen could not understand what anyone was saying, the Elves clearly took great offense to Saruman's words. Eliohad stepped forward, his grey eyes flashing.

"This is Anduin, of the house of Calenor," the Elf said proudly. "And a messenger of an Elven Lord. Mind your tongue and show respect."

"Dina, Eliohad," (_Silence, Eliohad_) Anduin ordered. "Elrond conui im pend istar." (_Elrond ordered me to speak to the wizard_).

"He requests you open the doors of the library of Isengard to this band accompanying me. He demands free access to all books and texts concerning Morgoth," Anduin continued. Saruman raised his eyebrow and nodded.

"I am obliged to accept," he said. "Enter and read, if that is what you have come to do."

"It is."

And so Saruman led the party up the steps of Isengard and into the tower. The steps were not made for a hobbit, and Higgen had trouble keeping up with the long legs of Anduin and the Elves.

It was not far before Higgen was left behind. "Oh bother, they would go on without me," he said crossly as he stopped to rest. He was on a landing and there was an open door beside him. As has been said previously, Tooks are terribly curious creatures and Higgen was no exception.

The hobbit looked up at the flight of tall steps ahead of him and listened to the voices of his companions grow fainter and fainter. "Well, I don't suppose there is any harm in just a look," he said to himself. And he pushed the door open all of the way and entered the room.

The walls soared overhead and the room was full of tables. Books lay everywhere, they lined the walls in endless shelves and breathed open their pages on the tables.

"If this is the library," Higgen said to himself, "Or at the very least a library, where has Anduin gone?" The hobbit wandered over to a table and climbed onto a chair.

"For it was the purpose of Morgoth to subdue all Beleriand," Higgen read. "Why, that scoundrel is trying to hide these books from Anduin! This text is about Morgoth."

But when he tried to read further, Higgen found that there was less than a page remaining in the book. There the writing abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

"Now why would that be?" Higgen wondered to himself. Then he caught sight of a scroll nearby. It was written in some language the hobbit had never seen before. "I think I understand," the hobbit said out loud. "The wizard in translating this scroll into the Common Tongue. But why should he hide it from Anduin?"

Higgen picked up the scroll and tried to make sense of the curling letters, but he could not even see any similarities between these and the alphabet he knew. But as he squinted at the page he saw some symbols scrawled in parenthesis at the end of some sentences.

"What are these?" Higgen said thoughtfully. He traced the symbols with his finger and was so engrossed by them that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"What are you doing?" Higgen turned around, nearly falling off of the chair and saw Saruman standing at the door.

"I got lost," the hobbit lied quickly. "And I thought this might be the library."

"It is my personal collection," the wizard said icily. "And is not meant for prying eyes. Now, leave. Up the stairs and mind you don't get 'lost' again." Higgen jumped off of the chair and scurried past the wizard.

He ran up the stairs and arrived at another landing. This one had a door too but it was shut and locked. Up Higgen ran until he stood on another landing. This one had a door open, but peering in Higgen could not see his companions.

Finally he heard their voices and the rustling of pages. He pushed the door open and entered yet another library. This one was just a little smaller than the first and even had windows letting in the sunlight and air. When Higgen looked out of one, he saw that they were almost halfway up the tower. Giving a small squeak of fear he stepped back.

The hobbit went to Anduin and tugged on the man's cloak. The ranger had been bent over a text and flipping through it's pages. He straightened up and look at the hobbit.

"Have you found something?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," Higgen answered. "But what does this mean?" He took a quill from the table, dipped it in an inkwell, and copied the symbols he had seen in the book.

"It's a reference page number," Anduin said with disappointment. "Writers place these in their text to show where they got their information. See, this one says QS 439. If you find anything with these symbols," he wrote out in the same spindly letters Higgen had seen downstairs. "Come and get me then."

With that the ranger turned back to his text and began to skim through it again. Higgen looked at the letters, he had seen this word in the scroll next to the symbols he had found. Taking the paper he had written on, he went to find someone else who could tell him more about the page numbers.

"Ciryon," Higgen asked as the Elf placed a book on the shelf. The Elf, who had long dark hair, turned and smiled at him.

"What is it?" He asked. Higgen showed him the paper with the page numbers and the Sindarin word written on it.

"This says Morgoth," the Elf explained. "And the page number, QS 439... it probably means the _Quenta Silmarillion_. That tells all about the First Age of Middle Earth, if you can find it. We've been looking for it. Here, if you see something that says this," he wrote three new words on the paper. "That says Melkor, in Quenya. It's another name for Morgoth. And these say _Quenta Silmarillion_."

Higgen thanked Ciryon and quietly slipped out of the room. He was sure that the _Quenta Silmarillion_ was hidden somewhere in Saruman's "personal collection."

The hobbit crept back downstairs until he came again to the first library. He peeked inside, but he couldn't see Saruman anywhere. Higgen hurried inside warily.

"It would probably be out," he whispered to himself. "If it is of that great importance." And so he walked to each of the tables in turn, climbing up on them and searching in vain for the words Ciryon had given him.

He had walked all the way around the room, even looking over the books on the bottom most shelves when he noticed it. There was a small piece of wall just barely visible between two bookshelves. Someone had tried to cover it with a tapestry, but there was just enough room for a hobbit to wiggle underneath.

It was very dark behind the tapestry, and Higgen put his arms out in front of him. "What's this?" he asked suddenly, for in place of smooth stone he felt wood. "Why, it's a cabinet! A hidden shelf."

He groped about the edges of the shelf for a while until he felt cold metal beneath his hands. He undid the catch and gave a small gasp of pain as a door swung open and struck him. Higgen could feel a book inside, bound with cloth and very thick. He carefully took it down out of its hiding place and wiggled back out from under the tapestry.

The hobbit ran across the library, struggling to keep a grip on the heavy volume. He was almost to the door when he heard a door open. Glancing back fearfully, Higgen saw Saruman emerging from a door directly across the room. The wizard saw the hobbit and the large text and he understood.

"Why you little..." but Higgen did not stay to hear what the wizard thought of him. Instead he bolted, tripping in his haste to climb the steps. He could hear Saruman behind him, pushing tables and desks out of the way in his pursuit.

"Oh help me!" the hobbit cried desperately. "Please someone help!" Now he could hear the pounding of feet behind him and he knew that Saruman made the staircase. Higgen knew he still had another flight of stairs to go before the library.

Suddenly he felt something jerk his legs from beneath him and he tumbled down the staircase, still clutching the book. Higgen rolled right up to Saruman's feet. The wizard was breathing hard and his eyes glinted coldly.

"I will teach you the meaning of fear, little spy," Saruman said, bending down to take the book from Higgen. The hobbit clung gamely on, but he felt some invisible force pulling his fingers from the volume.

"SARUMAN!" A voice thundered, and the invisible force ceased suddenly. "Release him!" Higgen leapt up and scurried up the stairs. Anduin stood at the top, with all of the Elves behind him. Higgen ran and hid behind the ranger's cloak, trembling.

"You have dared to defy Elrond," Anduin said forcefully. "You have deliberately hidden texts concerning Morgoth from us and have attacked a member of my company."

"The halfling is of no importance, as is the book he brings to you," Saruman said.

"The halfling is under my protection," Anduin thundered. "If you so much as give him an unfriendly glance I will..."

"What? Kill me?" Saruman's voice was filled with scorn. "A mere mortal, even a son of Calenor, could not kill me."

"I will tear Isengard to the ground," Anduin said. "I will bring a curse upon you and all of Middle Earth will shun you. But that will be nothing after Elrond learns you have deceived him."


	16. 16 A Reading

A/N: Parts of this passage are actually from the original Quenta Silmarillion. If it concerns the Shield of Morgoth, it's mine. It it's anything else, it's Tolkien's.

**A Reading from the Quenta Silmarillion**

"_Then, seeing that his hosts were overthrown and his power dispersed, Morgoth quailed, and he dared not to come forth himself... and all the pits of Morgoth were broken and unroofed, and the might of the Valar descended into the deeps of the earth. There Morgoth stood at last at bay and yet univalent._

_Upon his arm was the terrible shield of Angband, and it struck terror into all who beheld it. But Earendil came forth with the legendary sword of Tuor and struck the dark shield of Morgoth. And when the blade of Tuor hit the shield, the power of Morgoth failed him and his protections was split into quarters._

_He fled into the deepest of his mines, and sued for peace and pardon; but his feet were hewn from beneath him, and he was hurled upon his face. Then he was bound with the chain Angainor which he had worn aforetime, and his iron crown they beat into a collar for his neck, and is head was bowed upon his knees. _

_And the fragments of the aegis of Morgoth were taken by the Elves to the Celebrant and there the fate of the pieces was decided. Four horsemen were chosen to bear up the fragments and were instructed in their tasks. They each would ride for the decreed number of days and there stop, wherever they may be. There each man would delve a pit and bury the shield. _

_One rider was sent north and he buried his fragment in Forodwaith, north of the Grey Mountains. Another rider was sent to south and he hid his fragment in South Gondor, in the sands by the Sea. A third rider was sent east, far into the uncharted territories. He laid down his piece in a great mound in Rhun, south of the Iron Hills and east of the River Running. _

_The last of the riders was sent west. Of all the riders he did not return, and the location of the last fragment of the shield was lost."_

-_Quenta Silmarillion_

Anduin insisted that the party go to the woods of Lorien first, and discover what the Elves dwelling there knew.

Higgen was quiet as the company prepared to depart from Isengard and he sat morosely on Belladonna.

"Why are you so sad?" Anduin asked him. "Don't you want to see Lorien?"

"I would very much," the hobbit sighed. "But I guess I shan't."

"Why not?" The ranger asked.

"Aren't you going to send me home?"

"Whatever for?"

"Well, you said I could ride with you as far as Isengard," Higgen reminded him.

"I think you've shown your worth," Anduin said, his blue eyes sparkling. "After all, it's not every hobbit that can go up against a wizard." When Anduin had said this, Higgen became very merry, as only hobbits can be, and a joy to the entire party.

"We will cross the pass of Khazad," Anduin announced. "And coming down from there shall go around Fangorn Forest.


	17. 17 An Unwanted Rescue

**An Unwanted Rescue**

Night seem to come earlier in the mountains. The sun had set behind the peaks at their backs and a chill breeze had sprung up. Anduin orders that all the horses be covered with blankets and be kept warm.

"What about us?" Thrimich said indignantly. "We've only got one blanket for each of us, and surely we will freeze if we give it to the horses!"

At this Anduin glared at him. "The horses will freeze if we do not protect them." He sat down on the ground and had Eliohad sit beside him. Then taking both of their cloaks, he spread them over them.

"Get really friendly with someone really quick," Anduin suggested. The Elves seemed slightly disgusted by this prospect, but they soon had paired off. This left Higgen by himself.

"Come here," Gwindor said, calling him over to where he sat with Thrimich. "We'll put your cloak over our feet to keep us from getting frostbite.

"It isn't that cold," Higgen said, but he was very grateful to the Elves. The hobbit fell asleep between the two Elves and began to dream of his warm hobbit hole and fresh strawberries with cream. He could almost taste the delicious berries.

That was definitely not the taste of strawberries. Higgen awoke suddenly and discovered a strong hand clamped tightly over his mouth. He was aware that this camp was filled with strangers who were very short and somewhat stout. Hobbits?

No, dwarves. There must have been at least a dozen of them, and one of them had a hand over Higgen's mouth. The hobbit tried to cry out, but his voice was muffled.

"Steady on," a gruff voice grated in his ear. "We're rescuing you, see?" And Higgen found himself lifted out from between Thrimich and Gwindor. He was slung over a dwarf's back and they carried him away into the mountains.

At last his captors set him down and took their hands off of his mouth. There were many of them, gruff dwarves with long beards that went down to their waists. All of them were clapping each other on the back and shaking hands.

"Let me go!" Higgen cried, almost in tears.

"Let you go?" A dwarf with a long black beard said, his bushy eyebrows raised. "We just rescued you!"

"I didn't need to be rescued!" the hobbit shouted, his voice echoing along the stones.

"Now see here," a brown bearded dwarf said. "Look what them Elves have done to you! Shaved off your beard, it's a disgrace! A humiliation for any dwarf!"

"I'm not a dwarf! I'm a hobbit!"

"Poor thing," the dwarves rumbled. "They've addled his brain."

"I'm not a dwarf! I never had a beard and I'm from the Shire! Those Elves were my friends!" Now Higgen really was crying. This seemed to embarrass the dwarves to no end.

"Now, don't cry," a dwarf said, handing him a handkerchief. "You're all right now we've got you."

"I was alright back there! Take me back, take me back right now!" Higgen said, refusing the handkerchief. The more he cried, the more uncomfortable the dwarves became.

"Don't cry," they pleaded, and he was offered at least six other handkerchiefs. "We'll get you home, only for Aule's sake stop crying." But Higgen knew now that crying was the dwarves' weakness. And so he continued to adamantly refuse all handkerchiefs and began to bawl loudly. (Higgen wasn't a very good actor, but luckily the dwarves didn't notice).

"Now see here," the dwarf with the black beard said. It seemed to Higgen that this was the leader of the dwarves. "Now see here, if our friend is so upset about being rescued, maybe we ought to take him back." At this Higgen stopped pretending to cry and lapsed into feebly hiccups. The dwarves were very relieved when he did and all started patting him on the back. (Twelve dwarfs patting you on the back is a little bit like being thumped with six hammers.)

"Where's Higgen?" Gwindor was shaken from his sleep by Anduin. The Elf yawned and gestured to the space between him and Thrimich. The space... the hobbit was missing. Gwindor sat up, accidentally pulling the cloaks from Thrimich. The other Elf awoke, grumbling and reached for the cloaks.

"Higgen's missing," Gwindor said, pulling Thrimich up.

"His cloak is still here," Eliohad said. "And so is Belladonna."

"How could he have gotten far?" Anduin said, torn with grief. "Wake everyone, we must start searching."

"Labadal, n'bui brona daw," (_Labadal, he could not have survived the night_) Eliohad said, but Anduin shook his head.

"I will not leave without him!" And so the Elves began to search the surrounding crags and dips, calling the hobbit's name.

"Higgen! Higgen, where are you? Come out you little troublemaker! Higgen!" Their cries echoed along the mountains, and Higgen heard.

"They're calling me! Those are my friends!" the hobbit said happily. The dwarves were not very pleased but they began to walk toward the voices. The would-be rescuers had their own ponies, stocky and rough, and they led these behind them. Even on the mountain path, the ponies were surefooted and steady.

At last they came to the place where the dwarves had found Higgen. All of the Elves were up and searching high and low for the hobbit. It was Ciryon who saw the dwarves first and he raised the alarm. Anduin hurried into the middle of the camp and stopped when he saw Higgen among the dwarves.

"Higgen? What's going on?" He asked warily. The dwarves shifted uncomfortable and many began coughing nervously. At last the leader spoke.

"Misunderstanding," he rumbled. "We were trying to rescue him but he, er, says he's with you." Anduin nodded graciously and Higgen ran forward to meet him. The ranger smiled at the hobbit, but then he looked behind the dwarves.

"Do you trade with Alenor, son Fanduin?" He asked. The dwarves looked surprised and many began to stroke their beards, eyeing Anduin curiously.

"What makes you think that, laddie?" The leader said.

"Your ponies are Rhaw Nur, wild breed," Anduin said. The name reminded Higgen of something, but you couldn't remember what. "Only a member of the house of Calenor could trade them."

"Well, we did trade with Alenor," the leader admitted. "What business is it of yours?"

"My name is Anduin, son of Alenor." The dwarves stared and began whispering among themselves. A few put their heads together and peered at Anduin.

"Looks a little like him, he does," the said to each other. "Got the same eyes and nose." At this Anduin smiled and put a hand self-consciously over his nose. When he did so, the dwarves caught sight of his ring.

"Let me see that," the leader said, and Anduin stretched out his hand. The dwarf inspected the ring carefully.

"All right, so you're Alenor's son," he decided. "Where's he got to then? We need more ponies."

"Alenor is not driving the Rhaw Nur any longer?" Anduin asked, suddenly grave.

"Not for many years," the dwarves said. "And we want to know what's the idea? Wasn't he happy with that lost lot of gold we gave him?"

"My father," Anduin said slowly. "Has become blind." The dwarves were immediately embarrassed and began muttering condolences.

"I thank you for the return of my hobbit," Anduin said graciously. "I wish there was something I could do to repay you." Eliohad made slashing movements to Anduin, with eyes filled with an unspoken warning.

"Well," the leader said. "Well I think it's us in your debt, actually. We, ahem, we haven't exactly been speaking the nicest things about your father. We, well we thought he left us high and dry."

"I forgive you for anything you said in grievance against my father," Anduin replied.

"Much obliged," the dwarf said. "But see, a dwarf's got to do something to repay a debt. It's a matter of honor, understand?" Anduin nodded.

"Well, we are just passing over the mountains to go around Fangorn and up into Lorien, so I don't think there is much you can do," Anduin explained. At this the dwarves began nudging each other and winking.

"Around Fangorn, you say," the leader said, stroking his beard with a smile. "That's a long way. What would you say if I said there's a path through the mountains that'll cut a day off of your trip?"

"I'd say your debt is paid." The dwarf nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"Well then, pack up," he said. "For Moin son of Doin son of Bloin can do just that!"


	18. 18 Arguments

**Arguments**

The dwarves led them up over the mountains, on paths that Thrimich described as being "trails even a mountain goat would shun". But the dwarves' ponies were surefooted and steadfast and climbed the rocks and crags easily.

Anduin spoke with Moin about their quest and the dwarf listened with furrowed brow. Higgen could tell that the Elves did not like the dwarves, and especially disapproved of Anduin telling them everything. The Elves and the dwarves kept separate, both on the road and while camping at night. Only Anduin seemed comfortable passing between the two groups.

At last Moin led them from the mountains and they descended into a green plain. That night they camped with the dwarves for the last time. Higgen was sitting next to Eliohad and Anduin at the fireside when Moin and two of the other dwarves, Deet and Smeet, came forward.

"We've been thinking," Moin announced.

"A rare occurrence among dwarves," Eliohad said dryly. Anduin raised his hand to silence the Elf and nodded for Moin to continue.

"And we've decided to come with you on this quest," Moin said loudly and Deet and Smeet nodded in agreement.

"My friends, your debt is more than paid," Anduin said. "There is no need for you to come."

"Well, you said this quest is about saving all of Middle-Earth," Moin said. "And we're a part of Middle Earth, see? So we want in."

"Labadal, n'bui gaf tolo," (_Labadal, do not allow them to come_) Eliohad warned. "N'tolo eithel ah Eldar. (_It will not go well with the Elves_).

"I cannot refuse help," Anduin said in the Common Tongue, in answer to both Moin and Eliohad. "It is time the differences between Dwarves and Elves were settled."

"I annan al aen," (_That time will not be_), Eliohad said darkly.

And so the dwarves joined the company of Elves, and from that day on the journey was cursed with quarrels and bitterness. But of all the Dwarves and Elves, Saerid and Hani were the most at odds.

"Lorien at last!" Saerid said. "Manwe smiles on us."

"I don't see why it's always Manwe this and Manwe that," Hani grumbled. "We Dwarves set more store by our own two hands."

"And that is why the dwarves cannot converse with the Valar," Saerid said coldly.

"Well at least we don't stride around with our noses in the air, pretending to be all wise!" Hani said darkly.

"No, you prefer digging in the dirt," Saerid said scornfully. Anduin, who was listening nearby, put his face in his hands.

"Now see here," Hani said, blowing up. "Your pretty little Elven jewels and armor and such wouldn't exist without our digging!" And then, in an undertone, "And your craftsmanship is shoddy at best."

"How dare you insult the Elven smiths! Do not forget Eol the Great!" The Elf said.

"Yeah, well you don't forget that Eol was trained by the Dwarves," Hani retorted. Saerid grew red in the face and lifted a hand to strike Hani.

"Tampa!" (_Stop!_) Anduin shouted. "We well never reach Lorien, let alone any of the fragments of the shield, if we fight among ourselves." He glared at Saerid's upraised hand. "And any member of the party who strikes another will have to strike me twice."

Slowly Saerid lowered his hand and nodded to Anduin. "Henio le," (_You are understood_) the Elf said.

"Im ninglor," (_I am glad_). Anduin replied.

Higgen stared at the fair folk who had stopped them in the woods. They were Elves, and all had long silvery-blond hair and shining armor. They were speaking rapidly with Anduin in Elvish and Higgen stood among the dwarves, who seemed just as confused as him.

"Nogothrim al'cirith nedh-eryn Brennil," (_The dwarves cannot pass into the forest of the Lady_), the Elf captain said.

"Nin al'bui n'na pan ned nin," (_I will not come without all of mine_) Anduin said sharply.

"Labadal, nogothrim al'cirith nedh-Lorien," (_Labadal, the dwarves cannot pass into Lorien_), Eliohad said. "Al' avad." (_Do not be resistant._) Anduin suddenly left the Elves and came to Moin.

"The border guards will not let the dwarf-folk pass into the woods," Anduin said, and in his eyes there was some hidden meaning. Moin leaned upon his axe and nodded, seemingly understanding of the unspoken.

"They don't want us in there, laddie," he said. "And we don't want to be in there." Anduin nodded and then, leaning forward he whispered in the dwarf's ear.

"Five days, the Great River." Moin nodded and with a gesture gathered all the dwarves. Soon they were on their ponies, riding away in the direction they had come. Anduin watched them go and then turned back to the strange Elves.

"We are ready now," he announced, and the Elves turned without a word, leading them into the forest.


	19. 19 The Lady of the Woods

**The Lady of Woods**

"Hail Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien," Anduin said, his left hand raised in a salute. The beautiful Elf-lady smiled at him, surrounded in her own radiance.

"Hail Anduin, son of Alenor, heir of Calenor," the Lady smiled, and Anduin started. He had told the boarder guards that he went by the name Labadal and he had not spoken of any other. But Galadriel smiled at his surprise and nodded to him. "Long has your coming been awaited in Lorien."

"The quest thus far has been in grave peril, though you were as yet unaware," she said, her voice musical. "But now is the time to rest, both yourselves and your horses." The silver-Elves, as Higgen had come to think of them, came forward and led their company away. But Anduin did not turn to go.

"Eliohad sana Phaethon," (_Eliohad, take Phaethon_), he said, giving the reins to the Elf. "Brennil iest pent ah enni." (_The Lady wishes to speak with me._) Phaethon dug his hooves into the ground and laid his ears back.

"Tula sinome," (_Come here_) the Elf said gently, tugging on the reins. But Phaethon snorted and backed away tossing his mane. Eliohad tried again, but this time the pony tore the reins from his grip and circled around to stand beside Anduin. The ranger sighed and laid a hand on the ponies whither.

"Mani nae lle umien?" (_What do you want?_) Anduin asked the horse. Phaethon snorted and pawed the ground. "Uma dela," (_Don't worry_) the ranger said. The horse nuzzled his neck and went slowly to stand beside Eliohad. The Elf took his reins gently and led him to where Higgen stood with Belladonna.

"Was he talking to Phaethon?" the hobbit asked, looking up at the pony in awe.

"Yes," Eliohad said. "This horse is more intelligent than any other of his kind. And he's fiercely loyal. Did anyone ever tell you about the time Thrimich tried to ride him?"

"I think someone mentioned it once," Higgen said, leading Belladonna through the trees. "What happened?" And so the Elf told him the story of how Phaethon had taken off through the halls of Rivendell and deposited the embarrassed Elf in Elrond's study, where Anduin was sitting. The story was so merry and jovial that Higgen found himself laughing. The hobbit had been slightly afraid of Eliohad ever since he had rebuked him for interrupting Anduin. Now Higgen saw that Eliohad was a lot like Phaethon, fiercely loyal and only bending to the will of Anduin.

Anduin, meanwhile, walked through Lorien with Galadriel. She told him again the story of the shield, but she also provided a warning.

"Not four, but five pieces were lost," she said. "And only in Celebrant can they be brought together again."

"This fifth piece, where is it?" Anduin asked. "And how do you know of it?"

"I have seen it," Galadriel said. "For I was there: it lies buried in the Field of Celebrant. This must be the last fragment you collect, for it is the most powerful.

Be warned, for as the pieces come closer together, they will draw the evil of the land to them. You have seen the resistance of one fragment, it drew dark creatures forth to attack its bearer. The quest will gather more evils than this before the end.

But hope remains, while company is true. It is well that you have taken the dwarves into your confidence. They are faithful and brave companions."

"Then why could they not enter Lorien?" Anduin asked. "Why must they wait outside your boarders?"

"The time has not yet come for that race to enter the stronghold of the Elves," Galadriel said evasively. "But be honored, for Phaethon is the first of the Rhaw Nur to enter this realm. And my heart tells me he will be the last.

But now turn your sight to the journey ahead of you. I give you this warning: a time will come when hope is low and you are starving. Know that Yavannah will provide."

"Lady, you speak in riddles, and I do not understand you," Anduin said, shaking his head.

"But I understand you, Anduin son of Alenor," Galadriel said, pausing and looking back at him. "You love your lineage. To be heir of Calenor is as much a part of you as breath and soul. As much a part as your father's blue eyes. But among the Eldar race you deny your lineage and go by false names, because you are ashamed."

"Lady, do not," Anduin warned, his voice shaking.

"You are ashamed of the decision you made as a boy," she continued. "And proud of your choice, too. You accept the name Labadal because you have allowed the pain of the present to mask the pain of the past."

"I do not enjoy my pain," Anduin said.

"But you suffer it," Galadriel said. "You suffer it when it could be lifted from you."

"I have not chosen that path. I must be free for a little while yet."

"You are a member of the Rhaw Nur. You see what the ponies see and know what the horses know. You are brave, Anduin. For you will choose the path of pain rather than be rusva, broken."


	20. 20 Anduin Argues with the Rohirrim

**Anduin Argues with the Rohirrim**

They departed Lorien on the fifth day, as Anduin insisted they must. "We cannot tarry here longer," he said to Galadriel. "We must press on." The Elf queen nodded and smiled at Higgen. Then she sent forth to guide them from Lorien a company of silver-Elves.

When they emerged that afternoon from the southern edge of the forest, Moin and his dwarves were waiting.

"Amin nowe ron kelaya!" (_I thought they had left_), Saerid groaned, but Higgen was glad to see the dwarves. They made the journey easier, despite their constant complaints. They took half the watches of the night, and even agreed with Higgen about needing at least four meals a day.

Anduin had dismounted and went forward to greet Moin. Higgen noticed yet again that ranger limped very heavily. The hobbit had noticed in the past few weeks that Anduin rarely walked, and never for very long. "His leg must really bother him," the hobbit thought to himself.

He was not the only one who noticed. Moin shook Anduin's hand and asked, "Is your leg injured?"

"No," Anduin said quickly, swirling his cloak to cover his leg. Moin raised his bushy black eyebrows, clearly disbelieving, but commented no more. The Elves had caught the exchange, and from that moment on in their journey they resolutely denied Labadal's limp.

They took a path following the Great River into Rohan. "This road is protected," Anduin told Higgen. "By the Rohirrim patrols. It is the one of only two safe road into the South."

The Elves and Anduin caught fresh food and the ranger proved wise in the lore of edible plants. He would often stop and collect reeds growing at the edge of the river and weeds that flourished in the nearby fields. For many weeks they traveled thus, and Higgen began to think yet again that adventuring was not such an unpleasant thing.

One day as they walked along the swift river, their company was approached by strange horsemen. They wore armor above their tunic and had helmets topped with horse hair. Before they knew it, Anduin's company was surrounded on the three sides, the river at their back.

When the riders lowered spears at them, the Elves swiftly drew arrows and the dwarves gripped their axes tighter. But Anduin raised his empty hands in a sign of peace and gave a sharp command: "Lower your weapons!" The Elves obeyed immediately, if with disapproving glances. The dwarves were not so quick, but Moin repeated Anduin's order and they put up their axes.

"Who are you, that command such an odd assortment?" A rider asked the ranger. When Anduin did not reply, the horseman jabbed his spear at him. Phaethon danced aside, nimbly avoiding the spear. Anduin said a few swift words in Sindarin and the horses of the strangers fidgeted and fought their masters. The horse of the man who had threatened Anduin reared up, knocking his rider to the ground.

"What sorcery is this?" the fallen rider demanded, drawing his sword. "Who are you that command horses in a strange, wizardry tongue?"

Again, Anduin did not answer the man, but spoke in Sindarin to the horses. Most tried to bolt, others tore their reins from their masters' grip. The horse that had thrown his rider began to push him with his head until the man dropped his sword.

"Who are you?" the Man asked, his face red as he tried to hold back his horse.

"Tampa," (_Stop_)Anduin said quietly, and at once the misbehaving horses ceased. The ranger turned and looked at the Man who stood on the ground.

"I am known as Labadal," he told him. "But I do not appreciate being threatened when I have offered myself to you peacefully."

"Well, Labadal who speaks in strange tongues," the man said, taking off his helmet. "What business have you crossing Rohan's boarders?"

"I seek only to pass through," the ranger answered. "On my way into Gondor."

"Are you in the service of the Steward?"

"I serve no man," Anduin answered loudly. "Now, will you let me and mine pass? Or shall I have your horses flee you and escape into the vastness of Rohan? You are far from any city, and it is a long way without horses."

"I do not know what horse witchery you possess," the Man replied at length. "But I do not doubt it either. My Lord would surely be interested in such a Man as you, if you will consent to come with me to Edoras."

"I seek only to pass through," Anduin repeated. "Edoras is far out of my way, and evil tracks our footsteps. Beware, lest it follow us here!" The riders left them be, then, and rode away over the plains. Only then did Anduin breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why did you not tell them your heritage?" Smeet asked Anduin. "Surely the horse-people of Rohan would respect an heir of Calenor?"

"They would," Anduin agreed. "And then take him forcibly to Edoras. The abilities of Calenor are legendary, and any descendent of him would be invaluable to the horse-masters of the Rohirrim. As it is, they will be back, to catch me if they can. We must be swift now and pass into Gondor."

"Would they really take you by force?" Higgen asked Anduin as they made camp that night.

"Yes, I fear that they would," Anduin sighed. "If they do come for me and they do take me..."

"They cannot!" The hobbit said confidently. "You will send their horses away! And you said it is far to Edoras."

"Not too far for a strong band of men," Anduin said softly. "And not to hard to defeat a cripple in battle."

"You aren't a cripple!" Higgen said, only just remembering to keep his voice down. Anduin gave him a sad smile.

"Every day the pain in my leg grows stronger," he told him. "Lady Galadriel warned me it would."

When night had fallen and the first watch was posted, Higgen lay beneath his blanket, pretending to be asleep. He was actually listening to Anduin and Eliohad talking softly nearby.

"If they come for me, go on without me," Anduin told the Elf. "They will not harm me, I am too valuable. But the quest cannot be delayed."

"I will not leave you, nor will Phaethon," Eliohad said.

"You must," Anduin said firmly. "Rohan is strong, and a small company of three dozen will not hold it."

"It can try," Eliohad countered.

"Aye, and die in so doing," Anduin said. "Eliohad, if you attempt to follow me, I will fall upon my sword rather than see you come to harm. Amen mela lle." Higgen could not understand these last words, but they seemed to silence Eliohad.


	21. 21 Which Concerns the Story of Fangywr

**Which Concerns the Story of Fangwyr**

"If only we had boats," Higgen sighed, glancing at the swift river beside them.

"We could wish for wings, and that would not do us much good," Gwindor sighed. "But have heart, we are almost beyond Rohan's boarders and into Gondor."

"When will we cross the boarder?" the hobbit asked curiously.

"The Falls of Rauros mark the gateway between Rohan and Gondor," Gwindor answered. "But we've a few days more until then."

"Oh how I miss my hobbit hole," Higgen sighed. But at that moment Anduin called for the hobbit and he urged Belladonna to the ranger's side.

"Everyday you grow more confident in the saddle," the ranger said, watching him approvingly.

"Thank you," the hobbit blushed and looked down.

"Diola lle," Anduin corrected him. "You must learn to speak Sindarin, my friend."

"I have picked up a little," Higgen answered. "Will you teach it to me?"

"Maybe later," Anduin smiled. "But now I want to tell you a story."

"What is it about?"

"It is a story told among the rangers," Anduin replied. "About an eagle and a hunter. There was an eagle named Fangwyr, much like the one who circles now above us." Anduin gestured towards the sky and Higgen followed his hand. An eagle was indeed far above them, his pinions flashing in the bright sun.

"One day as Fangwyr left his home, he caught sight of a creature he had never seen before. It was so far off that even his keen eyes could not see clearly what it was, and so the young eagle flew down closer to the earth to look.

A hunter in the woods beneath the eagle, saw a shadow cross his path. Without looking the hunter drew his bow and shot the Fangwyr through the wing. Fangwyr fell to the earth, spinning and unable to slow his plummeting descent. He fell, direly wounded, at the hunter's feet.

"What's this?" the hunter asked himself. "Have I shot an eagle from the sky? Alas, I thought I shot at grouse, but now I have grievously wounded this noblest of birds!"

And Fangwyr said, "Yes, look upon your evil doing! For you have killed me; an eagle who cannot fly cannot feed himself." At this the hunter became remorseful and let his tears fall onto Fangwyr's chest.

"I did not mean to wound you, bravest of birds," the hunter said. "But I will care and feed you until your wing is healed." Fangwyr was unsure of this, but his wing was broken and useless, and he would starve without aid.

"I accept your offer," Fangwyr said. "But only if you promise me this: that when my wing is healed, you will let me go."

The hunter readily agreed and, bearing Fangwyr upon his arm, took him to his home. There he bandaged the eagle's wound and cared for him, until at last the day came that Fangwyr could fly again.

"Now you must release me," Fangwyr said to the hunter. But the hunter would not, for he desired to own the bird and use him in hunting. When the hunter refused to release him Fangwyr was angered, "You have broken your oath, and a thousand curses upon you for it."

Everyday Fangwyr looked out of the windows and dreamed of the air beneath his wings. Gradually, he stopped eating and starved himself to his death. For although an eagle who cannot fly cannot feed himself, an eagle who cannot be free cannot live."

"That is a sad story," Higgen said. "Poor Fangwyr!"

"It is a ranger's story," Anduin said. "Those Men who value freedom above all else. It is easy for us to imagine death without our freedom. We must be free as the eagle, to fly and fight according to our will. We serve no master, save ourselves."

Higgen understood that Anduin, in his own way, was explaining why he was fleeing Rohan. Not out of fear for his life, but for fear of being held against his will. "He is like Uricon, who died when he was broken," the hobbit thought to himself.

They had nearly made it. The company was walking along the Great River over rocks slippery with the spray of the water. Anduin was not at the front, but bringing up the rear, and Eliohad led. The Great River rumbled by them, spilling out into a great lake before them.

"The Falls are just ahead," Gwindor told the hobbit. "We are almost from Rohan's grasp." But barely had he uttered the words when a shout came up from the back of the company. Higgen turned in Belladonna's saddle and saw that a great host of riders was coming up behind them.

"RUN!" Anduin's voice carried over the wind. "Asca!" (_Flee!_) His voice spurred the horses and ponies so that they ran at full gallop along the river bank. Higgen looked back over his shoulder; Anduin was so far behind. For the first time since he had met the ranger, the hobbit saw fear etched in his face.

They fled over the stones, which fell clattering into the river below. The horses never hesitated, driven on by the fear they had felt in Anduin's voice. Somehow the horses and ponies made it, bursting from between the hills and running along the edge of a lake.

They were too slow. Far too slow to outrun the Rohirrim. For one pony had not made the lake. Phaethon was trapped.

"Labadal!" Eliohad cried in grief, seeing his friend trapped and alone. He started forward, but Saerid and Ciryon restrained him.

"I warned you, rider," Anduin said, addressing the man who had first assailed him. "I warned you what would come if you attempted to catch me here."

"Restrain him!" the rider ordered, and at once Anduin was pulled from Phaethon by many hands.

"Erio! Erio a berio aran!" (_Rise! Rise and protect your king!_) Anduin cried as he was pulled under. "Conui lle min eneth Uricon!" (_I command you in the name of Uricon!_)

The horses' ears pricked up at the sound of his voice, and a breeze seemed to blow among them. They rebelled, running into the river, trying to trample their masters, and all the while circling around Anduin driving off the Rohirrim. Men screamed and fled from the chaotic whirlwind.

Men of Rohan are not cowardly, but they have faith in their mounts. To see horses they had trained and known since childhood suddenly abandon them for the sake of a strange man was too much for them. For the spirit of Uricon, the Merka Fea, filled their hearts and drove them wild. They deserted their masters, fleeing into the hills.

Only Phaethon was not seized by the wild madness, because he was already half Rhaw Nur. Anduin leaped onto his back and Phaethon carried him from the confusion back into the safety of the company.

"Follow him!" The leader of the Rohirrim ordered, and a few of the Men attempted to do so.

"Halt!" Anduin ordered, lifting his hand. "For know that now I am in the realm of Gondor, and you can no longer touch me! Know this, before I leave: I am Anduin, heir of Calenor. All who call themselves master of the horse owe me their allegiance."

At this the men of the Rohirrim who still remained fell to their knees in awe and wonder, but Anduin turned away from them.

(The horses lost by the Rohirrim that day were never recovered. They escaped into the hills and no one could ever catch nor tame them or their descendants. That herd became known in Rohan as the Roch Yassen Faer Uricon, which in the Elvish tongue means the Horses Possessed by the Spirit of Uricon.)


	22. 22 Mud and Songs

A/N: The Elves' song is "The Minstrel Boy" by Thomas Moore

The Dwarves' song is based off the "Springhill Mining Disaster" by Peggy Seeger

Anduin's song is based off "The Bonny Streets of Five-I-O" by The Chad Mitchell Trio

Higgen's song is based off "A Jug of Punch", a traditional Irish ballad.

**Mud and Songs**

A vast marshland, criss-crossed by rivers and pools, with sucking mud and swarms of insects.

"A detestable bog," A dwarf named Brin muttered. "A day across, for those who make it out alive." The company had paused on the edge of the marshland, as Anduin tried to decide what to do.

"We could push our way through," Moin said, looking out over the marshland. "If we leave behind the horses and ponies."

"Where Phaethon cannot go, I will not," Anduin said, surveying the land before him as though hoping for some track.

"He's just a horse," Moin began, but Eliohad interrupted him.

"Anduin has said we will not leave the horses, and so we shall not," the Elf said hotly.

"If we can get across this, we will be on the North-South road and under the protection of the Gondorian patrols," Anduin muttered, running a hand through his grimy hair. "There is nothing for it, we shall have to go around."

"I don't see what's so important about keeping the horses," the Dwarf chief complained. "Besides, we'll still have to cross the river to get to the road."

"Yes, one river. As opposed to five," Anduin said, turning Phaethon and picking his way around the edges of the bog.

"And one day wasted," Moin sighed, but argued no more. As the afternoon waxed into evening, Anduin and Eliohad left the company to scout ahead for a resting place. What they found was a large area of rock, which didn't look very appealing to the hobbit.

"It's this or mud," Eliohad said cheerfully. They were painfully short on food, for they had seen no game since they came to the marsh. But the ranger ventured a little ways into the river, pulling up water weeds by their roots, and these proved wonderfully tasty, even if there were no more than a few. In the morning, Anduin taught the Elves to use their quick reflexes to catch the fish that swam in the stream and they breakfasted on roasted trout.

By noontide the next day they had come to the tapering end of the bog, where its many waters had their source. "The Entwash," Thrimich explained to the hobbit, "is a lesser river than the Great River. But it will still be difficult to cross."

Anduin went among the riders then, switching packs from rider to rider. The food, little that it was, went to the Elves on their tall horses, and he had the dwarves tie the blankets to their backs.

"Try and keep your packs and weapons from the water," Anduin warned them. He himself unsheathed his sword and laid it across his lap. Then he clucked Phaethon forward and the small horse waded into the water. Soon the river lapped up over Anduin's knees, but it was no deeper than that and Phaethon soon climbed the farther shore.

Now Higgen saw why Anduin had rearranged the packs. For Belladonna and the dwarves' ponies had to swim across the center of the river, and their heavy packs of food would have weighed them down. As it was, only the very ends of the blankets were wet. The Elves horses waded across without difficulty, standing tall enough in the water that their burdens of food were high out of the water.

When everyone was safely across, Anduin allowed them one day's rest. "From here on we will ride hard. I want to be in the White City in three days."

And so they made camp, and rested their feet for a while. The horses and ponies were turned loose to graze for a while. The dwarves pulled out their long pipes and began puffing away. When Higgen expressed how much he missed his own pipe, for Anduin had forgotten to pack it, Brig produced an extra. The dwarves' tobacco had a harder and less sweet flavor than the Shire's Old Toby, but the hobbit found comfort in the steady inhalation of the heady fumes.

The Elves seemed utterly disgusted by the smell of smoke, and kept upwind of the dwarves. Even Anduin seemed to sicken slightly at the smell and soon he too left the dwarves side of the camp.

For the first time since Isengard, the Elves produced their fine harps and flutes and began to play a slow tune. Some among them caught up a song and their voices mingled with the tobacco smoke in the wind.

"The minstrel boy to war hath gone, in the ranks of death ye'll find him

His father's sword he hath girded on, his wild harp slung behind him

'Oh land of song' said warrior bard, 'though all the lands betray thee

One sword at least thy rights shall guard, one harp sing praises to ye.'

The minstrel fell, but foeman's chain could not bring that proud soul under;

The harp he loved never sang again, for he tore its strings asunder

And said, 'Oh soul of love and bravery, no chain shall ever sully thee!

Thy songs were meant for the brave and free, and never shall sound in slavery'."

The dwarves listened to the beautiful song in silence, but when it had ended Deet and Smeet pulled two little fiddles from beneath their cloak.

"In the caves of the Misty Mountains

Down in the dark of Khazad-Dum

There's blood on the gold and miners lie

In the roads that never saw sun nor sky

In the roads that never saw sun nor sky

In the mines of Khazad you don't work easy,

Often the earth will rumble and roll

When the earth is restless miners die,

Blood and bone is the price of gold

Blood and bond is the price of gold.

Down at the mines, the dwarves are working

Rattle of the pick and the miner's spade

Rumble of rock and the walls close round

Living and dead dwarves two miles down

Living and dead dwarves two miles down

Twelve dwarves lay two miles from the pit shaft

Twelve dwarves lay in the dark and sang

Long hot days in the miner's tomb

It were three foot high and a hundred long

It were three foot high and a hundred long

Three days passed and the lamps gave out

So Gaff the Broad, he up and said,

"Well there's no more water nor light nor bread,

So we'll live on songs and hope instead

So we'll live on songs and hope instead."

Eight days passed and some were rescued

Leaving the dead to lie alone

Through all their lives they had dug a grave

Two miles of earth for a marking stone

Two miles of earth for a marking stone."

After this, one harp struck up among the Elves, and one voice raised in a sad ballad. It was so rich a voice, majestic in emotion, that Higgen almost didn't realize it was Anduin singing.

"There once was a troop of Brethil soldiers

Come marching down through Doriath

And their captain fell in love with a very pretty maid

As they marched through the woodlands of Doriath.

The captain's name was Ren, the pride of the regiment

The fairest man in the army - o.

A very handsome sight, he was the lady's own delight,

As he marched through the woodlands of Doriath.

There's many a pretty maid in Gondolin

There's beautiful ones in Nargo-o.

And there's many a pretty girl on the sea shore,

But the flower of them all lives in Doriath.

"Mount up!" the Lord did cry, "And it's over the brae we'll ride

Down from the woodlands to Nargo - o.

"Oh, let's tarry another day," the captain he did say

As they marched through the woodlands of Doriath.

The Lord in a rage, took his spear and did aim

At the fairest man in the army - o.

He launched it through the air, and the captain he did fall

As they marched through the woodlands of Doriath.

Well it's lang e're they left the woods of Doriath

They had their young captain to carry - o.

And lang e're they came into Talath Diren

Where they had their young captain to bury - o.

There once was a troop of Brethil soldiers

Come marching down through Doriath

And their captain fell in love with a very pretty maid

As they marched through the woodlands of Doriath."

At this a silence fell over the camp. Suddenly, Higgen felt someone poking his back, and he turned to see Hani holding a fiddle out to him.

"Do you know any songs Master Took?" the dwarf asked.

"None so grand as have been sung tonight," the hobbit answered humbly.

"Come on," Hani encouraged him. "Here, you sing and I'll play." And so the hobbit piped up his small voice in a song that was popular among the Shire's many taverns.

"Twas early, early in the month of June

I was sitting with my glass and spoon

A birdie sang in an ivy bunch

And the song he sang was a Jug of Punch

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

A birdie sang in an ivy bunch

And the song he sang was a Jug of Punch

What more diversion can a hobbit desire

Than to sit him down by a cheerful fire

A Kerry pippin to crack and crunch

And on the table a jug of punch?

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

A carry pippin to crack and crunch

And on the table a jug of punch.

When I'm dead and in my grave,

No costly tombstone will I ever crave,

Just lay me down in my native peat

With a jug of punch at me head and feet.

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

Toor-a-loora-loo, toor-a-loora-lay

Just lay me down in my native peat

With a jug of punch at me head and feet."


	23. 23 The Kasta

**Kasta **_**Must**_** Put the Fire Out**

They had lit a fire. Kasta did not like fire. Burning, biting flames that stung his skin with pain. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

They were laying around the fire. The bright hot fire. Kasta reached out of the water, into the cold air of the night. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

There were so many of them. Kasta faltered, which should he choose? Small ones, yes the smalls ones had lit little fires of their own. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

Two he chose, wrapping his tentacles around each of them, careful to avoid touching the fire. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

How they screamed! Kasta had not expected the screaming. It hurt his head, and so he tightened his grip on the two. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

Quick, quick! The others were waking, alerted by the screams. They would try to stop Kasta, but that didn't matter. Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

Into the water, the silence of the water. The others did not see him, did not know what took their friends. Put the fire out! Kasta _must_ put the fire out.

Something stung Kasta. Fire? Kasta did not know fire could come under water. But this hurt like fire and it kept coming again and again. Kasta _must _put the fire out.

He lifted one of his captives to his eyes. A small creature, holding a sting. Again the sting hit his tentacles, and again Kasta's blood flowed into the water. Kasta _must_ stop the sting.

Kasta shook the creature. Stop! Stop that sting! But the sting came again, this time from above. Kasta _must_ stop the sting.

Another creature. One of the others. This one was tall, and held a large sting. He stood above the water and raised his sting again. Kasta _must_ stop the sting.

But more stings came and bit Kasta. Kasta saw his blood flow into the water. Kasta hurt, hurt more than if fire had been biting him. Kasta _must_... Kasta _must_ remember what he had to do.

Kasta could not remember what he had to do. Put the fire out? Stop the sting? Let go... that would stop the sting. Let go. Kasta _must _let go.

The stings stopped. The light faded. Was the fire out? No, it still flickered on the edge of his vision. Kasta was tired; he sank back into the water. Kasta would put out the fire later.

"Brin! Brin, speak to me laddie!" Moin punched the dwarf in the chest repeatedly. Finally Brin turned on his side and spat out a fountain of marsh water. Off the his left, Anduin had pulled a soaking bundle from the water.

"Higgen!" the ranger yelled, placing his burden on the ground. "Higgen, are you all right?" When there came no reply, Anduin began to pump the hobbit's stomach. But Higgen did not come to, despite Anduin's steady pumping. The dwarves, who had been hovering over Brin looked over at the hobbit with concern.

"Please," the ranger said through gritted teeth. "I will not lose you so soon!" But still the hobbit did not respond, did not open his hazel eyes and smile. Eliohad pushed Anduin away from the hobbit and held Higgen in his arms. He looked at the hobbit for a moment, then pushed back the dark wet hair from his face.

"Higgen, lasto beth nin, tolo dan non galad," (_Higgen, hear my voice, come back to the light_) the Elf said, softly but firmly. At first nothing happened. Then the little hobbit shifted and vomited up marsh water. "He's alive," Eliohad cried happily.

Higgen's body shook as his lungs strove to rid themselves of water and replace it with the cold night air. Anduin, soaked himself, covered the hobbit with a dry blanket.

"What happened?" Higgen coughed.

"Some creature of evil," the ranger answered, patting Higgen on the back. He offered the hobbit some water from their supply but he refused.

"I never want to see water again," Higgen said. "What was it?"

"I don't know," Anduin said with a smile. "Dragged you and Brin down into the water. At first we had no idea where you were, but apparently Brin put up enough of a fight to startle the creature. It came from the marshes, and there it took you."

"How did you get wet?"

"I went for a swim," the ranger joked. "I went in after you, silly. And that monster."

"Is it gone?" The hobbit asked.

"For now."

"Not dead?"

"No, not yet."


	24. 24 Gondor

**Gondor**

Anduin kept his promise, and they did rest that day, although they moved far from the river and marshland. "Whatever it was, it couldn't come out of the water," the ranger assured Higgen.

Food was even scarcer than before, as many of the packs had been trampled during the night. Anduin did not seem bothered by this, however, confiding in the hobbit that "Everyone will be all the more eager to make Minas Tirith."

"What is Minas Tirith?" Higgen asked, resting on his cloak in the warm rays of the sun.

"The White City of Gondor. I am told it is one of the grandest sights of Middle Earth," Anduin said, and he plucked a piece of grass to chew.

"You've never been there?" Higgen asked, plucking his own strand of grass. It had a strange and hearty taste to it.

"I've never been east of the Misty Mountains," Anduin admitted.

"But you know everything so well!" the hobbit exclaimed, surprised. "The terrain, what to eat, where we're going, where we are!"

"I'm a good learner and an even better faker," Anduin said with a wink.

The next morning Anduin whistled for the horses and they all came to their respective masters.

"You're getting better with the horses everyday," Higgen remarked as he struggled to saddle Belladonna. Anduin took the saddle from him and fastened the girth around the plump pony's middle.

"I believe that once you claimed yourself as the heir of Calenor," Eliohad said, putting his packs on his mare, Elissa. "The horses recognized you for who you are."

"I never denied my lineage," Anduin said defensively.

"But you never claimed it before," Eliohad countered. Anduin rolled his blue eyes and placed his saddle on Phaethon and tightened the girth. He waited for a second.

"What are you waiting for?" Higgen asked, and just then Phaethon released a great gust of air.

"That," Anduin said, swiftly tightening the girth even more and buckling it. "Phaethon, and a lot of other horses, will try and make the saddle fit looser by holding their breath."

"Is that a Rhaw Nur thing?" the hobbit asked, scrambling up onto his pony.

"No, just a horse thing in general," the hobbit watched with admiration as Anduin smoothly mounted Phaethon. "And I've always been good with horses," he said, casting a pointed look in Eliohad's direction. "Move out!"

Anduin pushed them hard all that day. He would not stop for a rest until they were on an open road. It crawled across the landscape, a dusty brown ribbon of hard packed earth. Once the last dwarf's pony stepped onto it, Anduin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is this road really so very well protected?" Higgen asked as they set off again.

"Aye, we've probably already been spotted by Gondorian patrols, but we're not much of a threat."

"I don't know about that," Hani said brazenly. "We dwarves are very dangerous."

"Hm, from the waist down, yes," Saerid remarked dryly.

"Still," Anduin interrupted quickly. "Twenty-one Elves, twelve Dwarves, one Man, and one Hobbit can hardly attack the might of Gondor and inflict so much as a scratch in its armor."

They reached the Minas Tirith the evening of their second day on the road. Higgen gazed up, open-mouthed in wonder, at the White City. It rose like a mountain of ice from the plains of Gondor, a pale imitation of the mountains at it's back.

The tall wooden gates opened in admittance of their company and they rode into a white courtyard. Lamps were just being lit for the night and the people passing in the streets turned to stare at the company.

"What business have you in Minas Tirith?" A guard asked, approaching them. "My Lords," he added, glancing over the assembled Elves and Dwarves.

"We seek a hearing with Lord Eradan, Steward of Gondor," Anduin answered. The guard, a broad young man with light hair considered this, and gestured to one of his captains. They conversed quietly together, after which the guard turned back to Anduin.

"I will escort you, and a few of your chosen comrades into the presence of Lord Eradan," he said with a small bow. Anduin selected Eliohad, Moin, and Higgen to accompany him. The small number of his companions seemed to satisfy the guard, who was clearly suspicious of their larger number.

The guard led Anduin, still mounted on Phaethon, Eliohad on Elissa, Higgen on Belladonna, and Moin on his pony Caran up into the city. It was a very long climb, up and up into the many different levels of the city, each grander than the last. As they climbed the sun set, setting the sky on fire with reds and oranges.

"You must leave your mounts here," the guard said. "For now we will pass into the halls of Lord Eradan." Anduin nodded and when he slipped down from Phaethon's back his companions followed suit.

Eliohad moved up to Anduin's side silently, and subtly offered the Man his arm. Anduin took it and leaned heavily upon it as they followed the guard through the hallways. The crossed a wide green courtyard where a white tree grew. The guard stopped outside the double doors and whispered something to the soldier standing there.

That soldier disappeared into the doors and shut them behind him. Soon he re-emerged and nodded to the guard.

"Lord Eradan will see you now," the guard said. Anduin let go of Eliohad's arm, wanting to walk in by himself. The Elf stepped back and flanked Anduin's left side while Moin moved up to claim a place on the ranger's right. Higgen scurried forward to stand next to Eliohad.

Anduin marched up the stairs, slowly though, trying to hide his limp, and into the hall with his companions following.

Eradan was an old man. He had grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard, but young and with bright green eyes. The steward was seated on a chair before the throne, but he stood as Anduin entered. The ranger stepped forward and bowed to the Steward, who nodded graciously in return.

"Hail Eradan, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Anduin said, straightening.

"And what are your names, strangers from the North?" the Lord asked.

"I am known only as Labadal," Anduin said. "This is Eliohad of Rivendell, Moin son of Doin, and Higgen Took of the Shire." Eradan seemed vaguely puzzled as his eyes passed over the hobbit, but he said nothing regarding the Shire.

"This is my son, Erelion," Eradan said, gesturing to the young man standing beside him. "He thinks I should kill you," he continued, eyes twinkling.

"Father," Erelion sighed.

"No, no it's true," Eradan said. "Once he found out from our patrols that such a strange company was on the path to Minas Tirith. But I am not my son," here he cast a fond but reprimanding glance over Erelion. "And I am a curious old man. So, tell me why you have come to the White City of Gondor."

"We came seeking your assistance and protection," Anduin said.

"Protection? From who?" Eradan asked, sitting creakily in his chair. "Please, sit. I am old and do not like to stand very long."

"I am being hunted by the Rohirrim, your allies," Anduin said, graciously accepting a seat.

"Hunted by the Rohirrim? Whatever for?"

"I... I had a small disagreement with them, my lord."

"Did you really?" Eradan asked, his eyes sparkling. "Good for you. Those horse people need to be put in their place."

"Father, Rohan has ever been our ally," Erelion said. He did not sit, but stood behind his father's chair and glanced suspiciously over the strangers.

"Yes, yes, I know," the steward waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't change my personal opinion of them, though," he muttered.

"My lord?" Anduin asked politely.

"Oh? Yes, Labadal," Eradan seemed to come from a reverie. "You said something else, beside protection."

"Assistance, my lord," Anduin reminded him. "We seek to go into Southern Gondor, and are in need of your permission and aid."

"Southern Gondor?" Eradan repeated. "Curious, most curious indeed." His eyes drifted out of focus.

"Why should that be curious?" Moin said. Anduin cast him a sharp glance. "My lord," the dwarf tacked on.

"Because that is precisely where so many are fleeing from," the steward said. "A famine in that land, that's what they're saying."

"As though a blight or drought had come upon it?" Anduin asked. "But with no evidence of such?"

"Yes," Eradan blinked suddenly. "How do you know?"

"Perhaps they have a hand in it," Erelion said, narrowing his eyes.

"I assure you that is not it," Anduin said. "But rather this: I have been sent by Elrond of Rivendell and Galadriel of Lorien to retrieve something in Southern Gondor. It is the cause of this famine, and I must find it and destroy it."

"Why should a Man have such intimate dealings with Elves?" Erelion asked.

"Oh do be quiet," Eradan said. "You always were too talkative. But how did you come to know of this thing, whatever it is?"

"Higgen," Anduin prompted.

"Me?" the hobbit asked in surprise. Anduin nodded his head in encouragement and the little hobbit cleared his throat. "I... well the fields around Tooktown were dying and..." Higgen glanced at the steward's uncomprehending face. "That's where I live," he supplied helpfully. "And so I was plowing my field and I came up with this thing and Anduin and Elrond said that it was causing Tooktown to die."

Higgen feared he had not explained very well, but Eradan seemed satisfied enough with his babbling.

"And do you know where this other thing is?" Eradan asked. "Or are you just going to dig up all of Southern Gondor until you find it?"

"We know roughly where it is, yes," Anduin said. Eradan stood with a groan and smiled at them.

"Well, I will give you some men to guide and guard you," the steward said. "And do return to Minas Tirith before you continue on your journey. But now, I'll have lodgings prepared for you where you can sleep and, forgive my saying so, have a much needed bath."

"I thank you my lord," Anduin said, standing. "We have been traveling for many weeks."

"Well, when you have bathed, you are welcome to accompany me as I dine," the steward said.

The room was small, but a very welcome sight. It had a bed with soft sheets and a feather pillow. A pillow! Higgen could think of a time when having a pillow was not considered a luxury.

The hobbit had bathed in tub filled with hot water and he washed away the grime of the road. He had no idea that his skin could collect so much dirt! Higgen was hesitant when he climbed out of the tub to put his dirty clothes on over his clean skin, but then he saw some clothes laid out for him. They were clearly children's clothes, but that didn't matter to Higgen.

He flung himself on the bed with a contented sigh when his stomach began to complain. "Time for dinner, I believe," Higgen said to himself. "But I am so very tired!" His stomach clenched in hunger again. "Oh very well then," he told it. "I'll go and get some food."

He opened the door of his room and began walking down the hallway.

"Master Took?" A voice called from behind him. It was a maid, standing timidly at his door and looking down the hallway after him. "Dinner is served, if you'll follow me." She seemed curious about him, casting him strange looks now and again and blushing if he caught her at it.

"Have you never seen of hobbit before?" he asked her.

"No," she blushed again. "I'm afraid I've never even heard of a hobbit before."

"Really? Well that is something," Higgen said. "I've never heard of Gondor before." The maid giggled quietly. "I suppose we've a great deal to learn of each other."

"I'm afraid we shan't have the opportunity, Master Took," the maid said. "For I have heard you are leaving the day after tomorrow."

"So soon?" Higgen asked, crestfallen.

"Yes, my brother is a soldier," she said. "He's going with you."

"What's his name?"

"Fresen," the maid told him. "And I am called Glazel."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Glazel," the hobbit said as they stood outside of the Great Hall's doors. "And call me Higgen. I'll keep an eye out for your brother."

"Thank you, Higgen," she smiled, and opened the door for him.

Inside the Hall was the whole company of Elves and Dwarves. Anduin, looking resplendent in a red tunic, sat at the left hand of Eradan. Higgen noticed that the ranger had cut his hair and shaved off most of his stubble, save a small bit that made shadow of a neat beard and mustache. Higgen, being a hobbit, could not understand facial hair.

Eliohad sat next to Anduin, looking sharp in a spring green tunic. His golden hair was combed back and he smiled an easy and carefree grin. He seemed utterly content to sit next to Anduin.

Higgen felt a small pang of jealousy, for he had hoped to sit next to Anduin. But then he saw Moin gesturing to him. The dwarf was seated next to Erelion and across from Eliohad. And he had saved a seat for the hobbit on his left.

The hobbit barely had made it to his chair when Eradan announced a toast. "To my guests, especially to Labadal. May their lives be long and untroubled. Hail!"

"Hail!" The rest of the hall boomed, raising their glasses. Then they fell to eating and talking. Higgen listened as Anduin told of all that had occurred to them since Rohan. The steward listened attentively, only occasionally interrupting with a cough.

"My lord is not ill, I trust?" Eliohad asked.

"No, I'm as healthy as a horse!" Eradan replied. "If that horse is almost eighty years old!"

"So you encountered the Kasta?" he asked, turning back to Anduin.

"That great monster that lives in the marsh?" Anduin asked. "Yes, we did. He attacked us."

"He attacks any who light a fire near the bog," Eradan said. He was racked with coughs for a moment. "But not many of those come out alive." Eradan clutched his fur-lined robe about him, although it was warm in the Hall. "You must be a remarkable man, Labadal."

"My lord is generous," Anduin murmured.

"And you're in my favor for humiliating the Rohirrim!" the old man croaked. "Despite what my son says."

Erelion glared at Anduin across the table. The ranger met his eyes coldly. For a few seconds the two were locked, and the tension mounted between them. Then Moin gave a loud yawn, oblivious of the silent argument occurring next to him.

"Come on Master Hobbit," the dwarf said, clapping him on the back. "Let's turn in."

"Yes, let's," Anduin said, standing up but not breaking eye contact with the Gondorian. In the end, it was Erelion who turned his head away, his eyes burning with anger. He was jealous of this ranger, who could walk in and claim his father's affections so easily. If I were steward, Erelion thought, but he did not think further. Erelion loved his father very much, and could not think of the day he would be steward, because that would mean his father was dead.


	25. 25 Captain Wheeler

**Captain Wheeler**

Eradan had had boats prepared for them. They were flat bottomed rafts that could be polled along the river and were strong enough to carry men and horses. The captain of the regiment assigned to them was a tough-looking man named Wheeler.

Wheeler was missing one eye and he had a long scratch down the side of his face. "Orcs," he growled when Gwindor asked him about it. Wheeler was strict, keeping his men sharp and military. But the men loved him, and called him Big Wheely behind his back.

Eradan himself same down from the White Hall to bid them farewell. "Don't forget to stop by on your way back!" He called to Anduin as the rafts were pushed off from the bank. Anduin said nothing, save raise a hand in a gesture of acknowledgement.

"Step to it, yew lily-handed cows!" Wheeler barked. He voice carried well enough across both their raft and the second on that followed close behind. "I'll have yer guts for floss if I catch one of yew so much as blink too long!"

"Would he really?" Higgen asked a soldier nearby, who was using a large poll to push off into deeper water.

"Big Wheely?" the soldier said. "No, but he's a regimental captain and that's the talk they all make. My name's Fresen, by the way."

"Fresen? I met your sister Glazel in the White Hall," the hobbit said, shaking the young Man's hand. "My name is Higgen."

"Wot are yew standing around gabbing about?" Wheeler had come up behind them and his booming voice made Higgen jump. "Waiting fer a fly to fly in yer mouth I suppose! Push, yew son of an orc!" Fresen gave a smart salute and put his back into the pole.

Once they reached midstream, however, the Great River pulled them along swiftly and smoothly. The horses and ponies did not seem upset by this new way a traveling, merely vaguely interested as Minas Tirith disappeared behind them.

Higgen found Anduin with Phaethon, stroking the chestnut's neck as he watched a series of grim, black mountains pass them by.

"What's over there?" Higgen asked, leaning on the railing that ran around the boat.

"Mordor, where the shadows lie," Anduin replied. "It troubles me to pass so close, for therein dwells Sauron, chief captain of Morgoth."

Higgen looked over at the mountains in fear. "Will he try and stop us?"

Anduin shook his head. "Sauron was strong once, but no longer. And besides, "_The shield wants to be united, always remember that. For only then is it at its strongest, its malice most evil_", as Elrond told me." Anduin stopped and shook his head. "Resistance will not come from Sauron. But he has a great host of orcs and other creatures I have only heard of. It is these that we must fear."

"Aye, but I don't fear anything," Higgen jumped again; Wheeler had a nasty habit of creeping up unawares. "I could take on a dragon and he'd be bawling for his mamee by the time I was done with him." Anduin laughed, but it sounded strained.

"Of course I don't actually believe that," Wheeler dropped his voice to a whisper. "But it's important me men do."

"I understand the feeling," Anduin replied, ruffling Higgen's hair.

"I don't think you could take on a dragon," Higgen said to Anduin. The ranger gave a slightly strained smile. When the hobbit had gone away, Anduin put his head in his hands.

"Oh, but you do," he sighed. "You think far too much of me."

There was no need to stop traveling for sleep on the river. A few Men stayed up to keep watch, but the Great River continued to pull them southward as they slept. This close to the Sea, the river was very swift, and they reached the city of Pelargir by the next day.

Wheeler barked out orders and his soldiers unloaded the packs and horses. Eradan had restocked their supply of food, so much so that they needed packhorses to carry it. Overall, there were over sixty horses and ponies in the company now.

They set off from the port city the next morning, for Anduin was impatient to retrieve yet another piece of the shield. Wheeler led his Men at a sharp clip. Higgen did not dare ask him about second breakfast.

The dwarves' ponies were older and could not keep up as well with the fast horses of the Gondorians and Elves. Belladonna trotted gamely ahead, but she too lost ground with the riders. Anduin glanced back and then spurred Phaethon to where Wheeler led his Men.

"We must slow down," Anduin called to him. "The party must keep together."

"Then they'll just have to move their horse-flesh faster!" The captain called out. "The same goes to yer little horse there!" The Gondorians laughed, but Anduin's face darkened. He allowed jests from his Elvish companions, but he could not tolerate insults from strangers.

Phaethon shot forward, encouraged by Anduin. He swiftly pulled passed the soldiers and turned to block Wheeler's path. The captain was forced to pull up sharply, and he and Anduin stared each other down.

"Out of my way, ranger," Wheeler said, his voice a dangerous growl.

"We will slow down," Anduin said firmly. "Is that clear captain?" It was a battle, small that it was, for who would be in charge of this leg of the journey. The captain of Gondor, with his clipped regimental style; or the rugged ranger of the North. Wheeler stared at Anduin for a moment.

"Forward! Half-pace!" he shouted without looking away. The soldiers started forward, much slower than before, but Wheeler continued to stare at Anduin.

"Captain," Anduin said, inclining his head.

"Labadal," the Man replied.


	26. 26 Something Foul

**Something Foul**

"Halt!" Wheeler's voice boomed. By now the company moved together, with even the dwarves' ponies keeping up. "Camp here!" The captain ordered, glancing at Anduin, as though daring him to deft his command. Anduin did not, merely slid from Phaethon and began to unsaddle him.

As the soldiers began to set up camp quickly and efficiently, Higgen caught sight of Anduin crouched at the edges of their preparations. The hobbit looked around then stepped forward tentatively. No one stopped him. Eliohad cast a glance in his direction but looked away again to address Gwindor.

The ranger was bent over, examining some hidden signs that only he could see. He touched a hand to a broken stem of grass that was fading to yellow.

"Higgen," Anduin said without looking around. The hobbit started, but walked up to the Man's side. "I heard you coming," the ranger explained, not taking his eyes from the grass.

"What is it?" Higgen asked, following the ranger's eye.

"Death," Anduin said, lifting his head. His keen blue eyes stared across the plain, looking at something the hobbit could not see. "As though a hard summer came here. This evil has spread quicker than I feared. We are still a week's traveling from where I guess the fragment to be."

"Then do you have some idea of where it is?" the hobbit asked. "I heard you tell the steward you did, but the directions were so very vague."

"Do not tell Wheeler this," the ranger said, rocking back so that he sat on the ground. He straightened his left leg before him with a groan. "But when I spoke to the steward I was false. Now, however, I do know how to find the fragment."

"How?"

"Higgen, if you were searching for where a stone fell into a pond," Anduin said. "How would you go about it?"

"Why, find where the ripples began, of course," the hobbit answered. Then he realized what Anduin had said. "So this grass, this is a ripple?"

"Aye," Anduin said. "And I fear it will be followed with a wave. It is good we brought water with us, their will be none ahead."

Anduin had spoke truthfully, for any water or food that had been had ahead was long gone. On the third day they passed by a small huddle of men, women, and children hurrying North. They had a wagon with them, but no horses to pull it and the men had strapped themselves in the yoke.

"Hail Men of the South!" Anduin said as they drew near.

"Hail Lords of the North!" came the return.

"What news have you?" Anduin asked as the wagon drew alongside them.

"Only what death and bare rock can tell, my lord," one of the Men answered.

"We ride into Southern Gondor." This seemed to trouble the refugees; the women shook their heads and clutched their children tighter and the men tried to dissuade Anduin.

"My lord, you must not go there," the spokesman said. "There is nothing left there anymore. My family and I were foolish, so foolish. We tried to stay when the others left. Our horses are dead, a barren desert where our farms were. No, do not go into the South."

"A desert you say?" Anduin asked, leaning on his pommel.

"Aye, as though a great storm of sand had come. It seems the sands of the beach are pushing inland, smothering all that was good and green," the Man sighed. Anduin nodded, his face troubled.

"Here, take one of our horses," the ranger said, gesturing for the packs to be lifted from one of their packhorses. "Pelagir is three days that way, do you have enough food?" When the negative reply came, Anduin had some supplies given to them.

The refugees departed, their new horse between the shafts of their cart.

"Bless you," a woman said, grasping Anduin's cloak as she passed by.

"Yer too kind," Wheeler said, watching them set off. "We could have used that horse, an' that food."

"Pity is not a weakness," Anduin said, clucking Phaethon into a walk. "Nor is it something to be ashamed of."

"Yer daft," Wheeler replied, squinting his one eye. "Forward march!"

"And yet you still follow me," the ranger replied.

"Aye, I'm probably daft too," Wheeler admitted. "But that's old news."

"One too many blows to the skull," Fresen said quietly to Higgen. The hobbit suppressed a giggle with difficulty.

"An' mind I don't give yer head a wallop, laddie-buck!" Wheeler thundered. Fresen snapped a salute, but his lips twitched in a small smile.

That night when they stopped to camp, Higgen saw Anduin and Wheeler in conversation. Whatever it was about, they appeared to be agreeing for once, so Higgen stepped closer to hear the exchange.

"...something foul," Anduin was saying. Wheeler nodded, his one eye glaring about the camp.

"Nothing fer it," he said. "Only to double the watch and sharpen the swords." Anduin nodded, and stepped away, catching sight of the hobbit as he did so.

"What do you remember of Gwindor and Thrimich's teaching?" Anduin asked him.

"Of swordplay?" Higgen clarified. "Everything!"

"Tonight, sleep in the center of camp, near to Gwindor," Anduin said. "That is an order, Master Took, and for once I would like you to obey."

"Do you think there will be a fight tonight?" Higgen saw an inner struggle behind the ranger's eyes.

"Yes, I think that," Anduin said at last, and the hobbit saw he spoke the truth.


	27. 27 Werewolves

**Werewolves**

Fresen was on watch that night. It was not cold in the South, but still he shivered. Big Wheely had been around, warning them in the way only a regimental captain could.

"Peel yer eyes, or I'll do it fer ye!" He had said, and so Fresen obeyed. Big Wheely's commands were not unheeded and rarely uncalled for. But so far nothing had stirred on the deserted plains. It was a full moon tonight, so Fresen could see very far in the illuminated night.

Something moved out there. Fresen grasped his spear, but it did not come again. "Wind," he said to himself. But then it came again, further to the right, and closer this time. Fresen squinted his eyes, trying to focus. Something was out there.

"Werewolves!" He shouted, gripping his spear. At once the camp came alive, for none had slept well in anticipation of some sort of attack.

"Get up, yer scum faced mongrels! Grab yer weapons or I'll punch yew back to Osgiliath! Go men, go!" Big Wheely's voice sprang up like a comforting squall. The soldiers scrambled to their feet, holding their long spears ready.

The Elves had swiftly drawn bows and aimed these into the darkness. The dwarves were a bit slower, but they had their axes close at hand when the first wave attacked.

Werewolves are demon spirits trapped in the bodies of wolves. They are bred by Sauron for his evil designs, and they kill all in their path. The hosting spirit corrupts the wolf's body, lengthening it and giving in a more Man-like appearance. Werewolves can walk like Men or run like wolves, their claws are long and razor-sharp and their fangs curl downward in a hideous semblance of a grin.

They came, crawling in a leaping manner, swiftly encircling the camp. The horses screamed with fright, and fought their tethers. But the wolves of Sauron had not come for the horses, they had come for the Men.

As the Werewolves came into the light of the camps fires, a strong voice called out. "Tangado haid! Leithio i philinn!" (_Hold your positions! Fire the arrows!_) It was Anduin, and as he spoke a volley of Elven shafts flew and stuck in the hides of the Werewolves. This served only to anger the demons further, and they snarled, leaping upon their foes.

"Give 'em blood and vinegar!" Wheeler boomed, throwing himself into the oncoming attack. The Gondorian soldiers followed him, plowing forward with their spears pointed out. Anduin called a charge as well, and the Elves and Dwarves surged forward.

Higgen was with Gwindor, as Anduin had ordered. The hobbit had drawn his short sword, but his hand shook with fear. He stared, wide-eyed, as the battle unfolded around him.

Wheeler was a spinning whirlwind of death. He pressed forward, parrying claws with sword and driving his spear into the bodies of the Werewolves. All the while, the captain of Gondor cried out curses upon his foes and urged his Men ever forward.

Eliohad had drawn two long Elven knives, and he battled a Werewolf nearby. The wolf snarled, snapping his fangs within inches of the Elf's fair face, but Eliohad slashed and cut two deep gashes in his attacker's stomach.

Anduin was assailed by three Werewolves at once. His sword, Elenath, flashed in the moonlight, curving a path through the air. It connected with a Werewolf's face and it backed away on its hind paws, howling. The second Werewolf raised a claw and raked it along the ranger's shoulder. Anduin cried out in pain, but turned and plunged Elenath deep into the heart of the Werewolf.

After this, Higgen could see no more, for one of the creatures pounded up near to him. "Keep back!" Gwindor said, pushing the hobbit out of harm's way. The Elf raised his bow and shot at the head of the Werewolf, but the wolf dodged and advanced, snarling. Gwindor fumbled, trying to draw his sword.

The Werewolf raised itself on its hind legs and towered over the Elf. It raised a paw, its wicked claws glinting in the firelight.

"Hiyah!" Higgen cried, and he launched himself forward, and raked his small sword across the Werewolf's foot. The creature howled, and bent down, trying to get at the hobbit, but Higgen rolled away. Gwindor, meanwhile, had drawn his own sword and he plunged it into the Werewolf's unprotected back.

The battle was over as swiftly as it had begun. The Werewolves were all dead, but they had cut down many in their assault. Where almost three score had once stood, only thirty-five remained.

But the greatest loss by far was that of Captain Wheeler. They found his body, surrounded by five dead Werewolves. His wounds were terrible, he was missing an arm and his thigh had been nearly severed from his body.

"Hiro hon hidh ab 'wanath," (_May he find peace after death_) Thrimich whispered. Anduin knelt at the side of the dead captain, and he placed the fallen Man's cloak over his face before bowing his own head.

"We will burn the Werewolves' corpses," Anduin said at length.

"And what of the others?" Moin asked. The dwarf had a long cut along his face.

"We will remain here for one day," the ranger ordered. "To bury our dead and heal our wounded."

"My lord," Fresen said, stepping forward. Tears streaked his face. "What will we do without our captain?"

"Who is second in command?"

"No one, my lord."

"Are there no sword-masters, no lieutenants?"

"None my lord," Fresen said. "We are all simple soldiers." Anduin stood with a sigh and clapped Fresen on the back.

"Congratulations," he said. "You've just been promoted to Regimental Captain."

"Thank you, my lord," Fresen whispered.

"Tell your men to start digging," Anduin said. "We move out tomorrow at dawn, captain."

They gathered the corpses of the Werewolves and, placing them in a great pile, burned them. The Gondorian soldiers, aided by the dwarves, dug a great pit and laid the dead in it. Captain Wheeler lay with his men, together in death as in life. Then when they were buried, Moin placed a great stone on top of the mound.

HERE LIES A CAPTAIN OF GONDOR

WITH MEN AND ELVES AND DWARVES

AN ALLIANCE UNBROKEN BY DEATH

Anduin tended all who were wounded, going to each and using his knowledge of the lore of healing to save a great many. He had Higgen follow after him, carrying the silver-grey bag with the many pockets.

"Marigold," Anduin said, grinding the flowers into a paste. "To stop infection. Yarrow, to cease the bleeding. And one poppy seed of the North, to dull the pain."

"Elrond told me the poppies of the North are dangerous," Higgen said, watching Anduin bind a dwarf's arm.

"They are, if taken in large amounts," Anduin nodded. "But one seed is harmless enough."

"Labadal," Eliohad called. Anduin stood as the Elf came up to him. "What will we do with the horses?"

Many of the horses and ponies had been left masterless after the attack. Anduin stood silently and contemplated Eliohad's question.

"Tie the Men's horses to the Elven ones," he decided. "The Elves' mounts will take care of them. As for the Rhaw Nur, ask Moin if he wishes to keep them. If he does not, I have no doubt they can survive on their own."

Fresen proved to be a gentler captain, far more soft-spoken than Wheeler. He did not address his troops with the jargon of a regimental captain, but as a fellow soldier giving them advice and corrections. The Gondorian soldiers, still grieving the loss of Wheeler, responded well to his gentle commands and soft words.

The next morning, at dawn, all of the surviving Gondorian soldiers paid their last respects the Big Wheely. They placed small trinkets on the in-scripted stone, charms for good luck, dried flowers, and even a small flask of contraband ale.

The mound was called the Amon Dannen Maethor, the Mound of the Fallen Warrior. It was ever after a place of good luck and safety for soldiers and travelers, who sometimes claimed a spirit protected the place.


	28. 28 The Second Fragment and the Sea

**The Second Fragment and the Sea**

"We're getting closer," Anduin announced, peering over the land. Sand had indeed crept up over the past few days, chocking off the already dying grass covering the land with a tan blanket. "We come near the Sea."

The horses and ponies struggled in the deep sand, sometimes sinking up to their chest in the dunes. So to did the Men and Dwarves and Higgen struggle when they went on foot, but the Elves stepped with light feet over the sand. Even Anduin barely sank into the dunes.

"How does he do that?" Deet grumbled, watching the ranger step over the sand easily. Deet was up to his beard in sand, and very cross about it.

"Perhaps it's his Elven boots," Higgen replied miserably. "Oh, this is positively wretched!"

"We're here!" Anduin called.

"Where?" Deet grumbled. "I see nothing but sand." Anduin did not reply, but rather took from his belt the brown drawstring bag. Higgen watched as the ranger held the bag up and stared closely at it. Something inside of it was shaking, as though the fragment it contained was quivering in anticipation.

They stood at the top of a dune, and from there Higgen could see for miles around. The hobbit saw what Anduin meant by ripples, for so the desert seemed to extend from around them.

"The Sea!" Thrimich cried. To the West lay a sparkling field of sapphire, shimmering in the sunlight. All of the Elves of the company stopped to stare longingly out towards the water.

"Not yet!" Anduin called. "Eliohad, nach gwannatha sin? Ethelithach gaearon." (_Eliohad, is this how you would take your leave? You will come back to the Sea._)

Eliohad blinked, as though coming out of a trance or dream. He looked at Anduin, his eyes focused on something far away.

"Eliohad!" Anduin cried, as though struck by some arrow of grief. He fell to his knees and whispered, "A'maelamin." This word seemed to at last wake Eliohad. The Elf rushed to Anduin's side and lifted him up.

"Amin u gwanno lle," (_I will not leave you_), Eliohad assured him. "Eldar, tiri dan gaearon, an si." (_Elves, look away from the sea, for now._)

"What was that all about?" Moin asked crossly. The dwarf had sand in his armor, and the sun was hot.

"Let us be gone from here as swift as we may," Eliohad said, turning his face from the distant Sea. "Start digging."

The sand proved very difficult to dig in, it shifted and sank back into whatever pit they began. But dwarves are the most skilled of diggers, and they shouldered through the sand, digging deep.

"My piece was so near the surface," Higgen said.

"That is because Tooktown was settled for many generations before you. Your ancestors plowed the land so much that they moved much of the dirt covering the Western fragment," Anduin explained. He was holding tightly to Eliohad's arm, as though trying to keep the Elf's attention from the Sea. Eliohad placed a hand around the ranger's back and kept his eyes locked on the sand being hurled from the pit by the dwarves.

Suddenly a clink of metal on metal sounded. "We've found something!" Moin's voice boomed from the sandy pit.

"Don't touch it!" Anduin warned. The dwarves handed up a shovel, filled to the brink with sand. Anduin took it from Brin and began the shake it from side to side. Sand poured from the top of the shovel, revealing a lump of ore hidden beneath.

"It's bigger than my piece," Higgen remarked, staring at the metal.

"The shield didn't break evenly," Anduin answered. He put a glove on his hand and began brushing the sand from the fragment. Then he took another bag from his pack an carefully placed the fragment inside.

"That's it?" Fresen asked. "That's what we came for?"

"Aye, this is it," Anduin said, pulling the bag shut. "This is a piece of the doom of Middle Earth. I pray we find its siblings before we are too late."

"Do you think Southern Gondor will recover now that we have it?" Fresen asked hopefully.

"I cannot say," Anduin spoke carefully. "It could be that when the shield is destroyed the land will return to its original state. But I cannot say for sure."

"Does that mean Tooktown might not recover?" Higgen asked, feeling a lump in his stomach. Anduin did not meet the hobbit's eyes. "That its fields will never again be green and beautiful? There'll be no more strawberries, or orchards, or summer fairs? No sitting on the hillside, smoking Old Toby? Tooktown will... will die?"

"I'm afraid," Anduin said slowly. "That yes, yes that might happen."


	29. 29 Herbs and Riders

**Herbs and Riders**

They traveled out of the desert, Anduin carrying both fragments of the shield. Phaethon seemed displeased by his master's new burden, but he bore him stoically. No attacks met them, no threats came from the grim black mountains of Mordor.

Anduin pushed forward, keeping the riders at a trot. They were far fewer in numbers than Anduin would have liked, but that meant that they could travel swiftly.

They reached the edge of the desert on the fourth day as night was falling. There Fresen declared a camp to be made and a watch set. Anduin sat near to the fire, attended by Eliohad and Saerid as well as Higgen.

"You should have placed a salve of shepherd's purse and rose bark on your arm," Saerid said, undoing the bandages around Anduin's arm.

"I did," Anduin said, gritting his teeth. "But it won't stop bleeding."

"Then you should have rested," Eliohad said.

"Sorry, mother," Anduin rolled his eyes. Higgen would have laughed, but just then Saerid undid the last of the bandage, revealing the three long cuts underneath. It seemed almost as if the skin around them was turning black. Anduin gave a low whistle, looking at his own arm in mild disgust.

"I hope that's a bruise and not an infection," he said.

"No such luck," Saerid shook his head. "Higgen, go and fetch his herb bag." The hobbit nodded, feeling faintly queasy. When he brought back the bag, Anduin put a hand on Saerid's shoulder.

"Watch this," he said. "Higgen, what herbs to you need for an infection?"

"Um, marigold and agrimony?" he asked, selecting the dried flower petals and the plant stems.

"And some comfrey," Saerid said. "But otherwise very impressive. Can you read Quenya, Master Took?"

"Quenya?" the hobbit asked. "I've never heard of it."

"The labels of my herb bag are written in Quenya, the ancient Elvish language," Anduin explained. "But Higgen knows where most of the herbs are without the help of labels."

Saerid took the herbs and, mixing them with some hot water, made a paste. He spread this over Anduin's arm causing the ranger to wince. Then the Elf took a clean bandage and bound the paste over the scratches.

"When did it start to bleed again?" Eliohad asked.

"A few days ago," Anduin answered, gritting his teeth. "Why?"

"Would you say about the time we retrieved the second fragment?"

"Yes, that same day, I'd say."

"Hmm," the Elf said, shaking his head. "Perhaps you ought to give the pieces to me."

"What?" Anduin said, flexing his arm. "No, mellon nin, Elrond charged me to bear them."

"Labadal, achas rhach tinechor glaer long erin lle. Saew erin haru; ah lle tellen a lle ranc," (_Labadal, I fear the cursed shield weighs heavily on you. It poisons your wounds; both your leg and your arm_) the Elf said softly.

"San' amin naara saew tuulo' amin," (_Then I will burn the poison from me_) Anduin replied.

They saw the rider when they were a day from Pelagir. A horseman, riding hard toward them, their cloak billowing behind them and their horse's hooves pounding the ground.

"Halt!" Fresen called. "Who are you?" The horse slowed down, and Higgen saw that its rider was a woman.

"Fresen?" the woman called. "Is that you?"

"Glazel?" the captain answered, recognizing his sister. "What are you doing out here?"

"I came to warn Labadal," the maid replied. "I came down the river on a boat and have ridden hard and wide to find you since."

"Warn me of what?" Anduin asked as Glazel came closer. "Is Lord Eradan well?" The woman shook her head sadly.

"Lord Eradan is dead," she told them. "Shortly after you left he contracted the fever and died. Lord Erelion is Steward now, and he is grieving for his departed father. That is what I have come to warn you of; Lord Erelion has sent word to Rohan, he is allowing the Rohirrim to come and take you."

Anduin grew uneasy, shifting his weight warily. "Do you know where the riders are?"

"They are waiting for you in Minas Tirith," Glazel nodded. "They say many... strange things about you, my lord. They say you are the Blue-Eyed Demon."

Anduin turned and looked at Fresen. The young captain seemed torn, glancing first at his sister, then in the direction of Minas Tirith, and then at Anduin.

"Fly," he said softly, locking eyes with Anduin. "Fly and do not go to Minas Tirith. I do not know you, nor have I seen you since the battle with the Werewolves." Anduin nodded, and he dug his heels into Phaethon's side. The ranger signaled, and the remainder of his original company followed him.

"And Labadal," Fresen called after him. "Take the packhorses, for I wish you well."

"And I you, Fresen, Captain of Gondor," Anduin said, raising his hand in salute.

Anduin led them straight towards the mountains that ringed Mordor.

"Where are we going?" Higgen shouted over the thunder of the horses hooves.

"To the Harad Road," Anduin replied shortly.

"But that will lead us along the boarders of Mordor, past the Black Gates themselves!" Thrimich cried.

"The Rohirrim will not follow into the arms of the Enemy," Anduin said.

"Then they at least are not mad!" Saerid shouted.

"They'd have to be, to think that they could capture Anduin," Hani argued.

"Be silent! From now on, there will be no unnecessary talking, nor fires at night, and no arguing!" Anduin commanded. "Now, noro lim!" (_Ride fast!_) At this the horses and ponies quickened their pace, so that the dead grass seemed to fly beneath the riders.

Within a few days they had reached the mountains and were camped near the road that ran along their bases.

"Do you think Sauron knows we're here?" Higgen whispered, glancing fearfully at the wall of mountains.

"I have no doubt that he does," Anduin replied softly. "And that he knows what we carry with us."

They passed under the shadow of the mountains, creeping along the Harad Road. For many weeks they traveled thus, slipping unnoticed between the Gondorian city of Osgiliath and the Black Gates of Mordor. They went unchallenged, but still Anduin stressed caution.

But Eliohad insisted they stop and rest often, so that wounds could be rebound. In reality, the Elf spent their rests creating mixtures of Devil's Claw and extracts from the White Willow tree. He applied these to Anduin's leg, which had yet again become twisted and contorted by pain.

"Leave it," Anduin whispered to the Elf, but Eliohad would not hear of it.

"Apparently when you are in pain you don't think clearly," the Elf replied softly. "And then you do stupid things like, I don't know, eat a handful of poppy seeds."

"It was a pinch, and a hobbit's pinch at that," Anduin said. "And taken for my ribs and back, not my leg."

"Mhmm," the Elf hummed, unappeased.

But it was safely they passed out of Gondor, following the Harad Road where it turned and continued along the mountains. No Rohirrim pursued them, no orcs assailed them. All seemed peaceful for the company.

(It should probably be noted here that Fresen had taken many weeks to return to Minas Tirith, pretending to be lost and grievously wounded after a fight with the Werewolves, from which he claimed Labadal and his companions had fled. When he did return to the White City with news of Captain Wheeler's death, the Rohirrim did set out to find Labadal. But Anduin had been correct, for the Riders would not go under the shadows of Mordor.

And so the Rohirrim returned to their Golden Halls and Gondor returned to its grieving, both for the fall of Eradan and the noble captain. Glazel did not find re-employment in the White Hall, for she had been dismissed when she did not show up for work the day after the Rohirrim arrived. But she moved down into the city and there opened a Hall of Healing, where all the poor of Gondor could come for care and aid.)


	30. 30 Captured

**Captured**

The Harad Road, a road lined with paving stones and relatively well cared for in comparison to the North-South road, ended abruptly. From this point the Rhun stretched forth. The Rhun were the vast lands of the East, and in reality encompassed several small kingdoms that quarreled among each other.

It was here, where the road ended, that Anduin ordered a camp to be set. "One more evening without fire," he said, glancing up uneasily at the mountains. It had been nearly a month since Higgen had slept around a fire.

"Oh how I miss my hobbit hole," he thought as he drifted off to sleep. It had become a constant refrain, the last thing he thought as he fell asleep and the first thing as he awoke. But the hobbit was not to sleep well that night.

The clash of arms woke Higgen much, much too early. Large shapes ran around the dark camp, and the dark clouds made it impossible to distinguish friend from foe. The hobbit stumbled blindly to his feet, drawing his sword from his belt. Suddenly two rough hands grabbed him and pulled him down.

"Stay down, Master Took," a gruff voice said in his ear. It was Smeet. "There's Uruk-hai abroad tonight." Gradually the sounds of battle died down and many of the dark figures fled into the night.

"Is everyone all right?" a soft voice called out from the darkness. It was Anduin, checking to make sure no wounded needed his attention. "We'll have to wait until morning to see the true damage, I'm afraid, my friends."

As it was, few slept well that night, either from injuries or from the haunting thought of who might lay dead around them.

With the sun came that knowledge. Few had been killed in the night, three dwarves and two Elves.

"Yet again our number dwindles," Thrimich sighed. "Only nineteen left."

"Nineteen?" Anduin said, frowning. "By my count there should be a score, even." Suddenly a realization came to his eyes and his face grew concerned. "Where is Eliohad?"

No one answered. "Where is he?" Anduin shouted. He began to tear blankets from the ground, searching in vain for his friend. "Eliohad! Eliohad, where are you?" He called into the woodland.

"Labadal," Saerid warned, but Anduin turned and, seizing the Elf, shook him.

"They've taken him!" the ranger yelled, his eyes wild with fear and anger.

"We cannot be sure that he... that they have," Saerid said, grasping Anduin's shoulders. The Man cried out and kicked out wildly at cooking pot, sending it tumbling and its water hissing into the fire. Anduin stormed off and sat on a rock at the edge of the camp.

"Leave him be, laddie," Moin said, patting Saerid on the hip, which was as far up as the dwarf could comfortably reach.

Anduin had taken off his ruby ring and was glaring at it. "Show me Eliohad!" he told it. The ruby shimmered and glistened, but it did not show him any images. "Show him to me!" Anduin yelled and, as though unwillingly giving up its secrets, the light within the ring shifted gradually and showed Anduin the Elf.

Eliohad, bound in chains, being dragged behind a company of Uruk-hai. He fell, and the uruks beat him until he rose again.

"We're going after him," Anduin said, his words dulled with tears but nonetheless firm.

"Laddie, we've still a long way ahead of us," Moin said. "I know he's dear to you, but to throw away the journey for one Elf..." the dwarf shrugged.

"I am going after him," Anduin said, his blue eyes flashing. "Whether or not you choose to come with me is up to you. But I am the bearer of the two fragments, and I will not abandon a friend to such a fate."

_The chain around Eliohad's neck chafed him and when the uruks ran it nearly chocked the Elf. He could feel the blood, a trickle flowing down the side of his face and spilling from a gash in his side. The normally graceful Elf stumbled and nearly fell. _

_The Uruk-hai only pulled the chain harder, and snarled a wicked laugh as Eliohad stumbled again. His hands were bound roughly behind his back, the ropes rubbing them raw. His knees were sore from falling so much onto the bare rock._

"_Take a breather!" One of the Uruk-hai said, and Eliohad collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. His golden hair fell over his face and stuck to the wet blood there._

"_Filthy Elf-scum!" An uruk yelled, and Eliohad gasped as a nail studded boot hit his side. The Elf rolled over, and his side screamed in protest. He panted heavily, trying to control the tears that the pain had brought to his eyes._

_He had been taken in the night by the Uruk-hai, bound and gagged. At first they had carried him away, but the cruel creatures had wanted to make him stumble along behind them. Eliohad could see the please in their eyes when the beat him, and that sickened him far more than any blow they inflicted. _

_Their leader had taken Eliohad's two long knives. He was examining them now, grunting with pleasure of his new toys. When the Elf permitted one soft moan to escape his lips, the leader got up and stood above him._

"_Stinking Elf," the leader said, looking down at his captive with a sneer. Then he took Eliohad's own blade and smacked the Elf across the face with its flat. "That'll give you something to moan about."_

Anduin halted the company. They were less than a day away from the path, but the going was slow over rock and stone. The Elves' horses were the stragglers now, for the ponies picked their way with ease over the small hills. Anduin was torn, whether to put up with the straggling pace or to split the company in half.

"Show me Eliohad," he whispered to the ruby. The light shone and twisted, revealing the Elf in it's facets. Anduin bit his lip and looked up as the last of the horses topped the rise.

"Moin," Anduin called, making up his mind. The dwarf urged his pony Caran up to the ranger's side. "Moin, I know you and trust you as a fighter and friend. But now I must ask you and your kindred to stay with the horses and ponies. The Elves and I will go ahead on foot."

"Are you sure?" The dwarf raised his bushy black eyes.

"Yes," Anduin said. "Moin, I am trusting you with two of the things I hold most dear: Phaethon and the hobbit. Do not let them follow me, but protect them and keep them safe." The dwarf nodded his understanding, but Higgen would not let Anduin go on without him.

"I want to come! I want to help," the hobbit said.

"I know you do," Anduin sighed. "But I cannot take the horses with me, and you will not be able to keep up. Stay with Phaethon and Moin." The ranger did not wait for the hobbit to argue, but turned and with a signal to the Elves, sprinted into the woods.

_The Uruk-hai were running again. It was all Eliohad could do to pick his feet up, and soon he tripped and fell. He cowered there, knowing what was coming. Blows rained down upon him, a whip lashed across his back. _

"_Get up, you miserable scum!" the uruk demanded, but Eliohad would not. He knew that the Uruk-hai would continue to beat him until he did, but he could not find the strength to stand. The whip lashed his back, cutting through his tunic and cutting his skin to the bone. The Elf cried out in pain, his back arching. _

_Eliohad kicked out wildly, hitting an uruk in the stomach. The surprised creature fell with a grunt and Eliohad seized his chance. He wrapped his long legs around the creature, putting the uruk in a head-lock between his knees and attempting to strangle it. The uruk struggled faintly, trying to grasp his attacker's knees, but Eliohad was strong. _

_The other Uruk-hai came to their comrade's rescues. They freed the uruk and then beat the Elf mercilessly in retaliation. Eliohad's vision went black, and he knew no more._

The ranger was as swift and silent as the Elves who followed him. He stopped occasionally, stooping down to read some boot print or a broken twig.

"He fell here," Anduin muttered, touching the ground where the grass had been broken and flattened. "He struggled. His tracks stop here."

"Dead?" Gwindor asked.

"No, not enough blood," Anduin said, more to himself than the Elf. "But he is wounded, and badly."

"How far ahead?"

"Little more than a day," the ranger said, standing. "They are moving fast, but not bothering to hide their trail."

_They had stopped for the night by the time Eliohad came to his senses. The fools didn't bother to post a watch. Not that Eliohad believed Labadal would follow, he thought his friend to wise for that. But the Elf was planning his own escape._

_Eliohad struggled silently, twisting and turning this way and that. He finally succeeded; he had managed to maneuver his bound hands around under his feet and up so that they were in front of him._

_Blood began to pour again from the cut above his eye. It threatened to seal his eye, and so Eliohad turned on his side, allowing the blood to drip onto the ground where it pooled. One of the uruks grunted in his sleep and turned over._

_It began to rain, and Eliohad welcomed the water that fell with blissful coolness on his sore skin._

Anduin cursed the rain. It fell hard, almost completely eliminating the tracks left behind by the uruks. He had pushed the Elves through the night, and they had complied without a word.

The mud here was mixed with blood. "They stopped here," Anduin said to himself. "A few hours ago. Come, we are not to far behind them now!" He jumped up, his leg twinging in protest, but he ignored it. Eliohad was in much more pain than himself.

Anduin ran lightly over the muddy ground, and the Elves followed him. It was hard to run, but the ranger would not stop and rest nor would he slow his pace. Most rangers are fast, swifter than normal Men. Surely for once Anduin could run, and not limp along!

_There was a stream. Eliohad groaned and fell to his knees when he saw it. The Uruk-hai snarled and tugged on the chain. But Eliohad only fell forward onto his face into the riverbank mud. _

_Their leader gave a command in the grating language Eliohad could not understand. The Elf found himself lifted to his feet by two of the Uruk-hai. He sagged in their arms, but he was light and easy to hold up._

_The uruk stood in front of him, holding Eliohad's sword in his hand. He looked at the Elf, his mouth in a horrible grin that showed his crooked black teeth._

"_Where were you and the other scum going?" The uruk demanded. The Elf made no reply. Raising his fist, the uruk slammed it into Eliohad's stomach so that the Elf doubled up in pain. His legs left the ground completely, but his captors still held him upright._

"_I said, where were you going," the uruk repeated. Eliohad raised his head and glared at the leader, his grey eyes hard and unmoving. The uruk raised his hand and slapped the Elf across the face. _

"_Where were you going?" The uruk demanded, and the other foul creatures laughed. "Answer me!" Eliohad turned his face back to the uruk and opened his mouth to speak._

"_By the Sea and stars, you're ugly," he said defiantly. _

Anduin came to the side of a stream, flowing full with the rains. The ranger looked across its distance warily, but the Elves leapt, graceful as deer, across. Gwindor turned and looked back at the Man.

Anduin braced himself and tried to jump the stream. When he landed on the other side his leg buckled beneath him and gave way, but strong arms caught him. Gwindor steadied him and looked into his deep blue eyes with concern, but Anduin merely nodded and continued to move forward.

"_Ulmo help me," Eliohad cried out. The Uruk-hai laughed, and raised their whip again. But their leader kicked the Elf and Eliohad fell to his side. The uruk placed one heavy boot on the Elf's chest and pushed down hard. Eliohad gasped for air, but he could barely breath._

"_Where were you going?" the uruk demand, grinding his nail studded boot into his captive's chest. _

"_You'll...have to...kill me," Eliohad gasped. The uruk lifted Eliohad's long Elven knife above his head._

"_Very well," he snarled, but suddenly a black arrow sprouted from his chest. The uruk looked down in surprise at the arrow before toppling over and laying face up in the mud. Eliohad struggled to sit up and he stared at the dead leader of the Uruk-hai._

With a mighty yell Anduin jumped upon the Uruk-hai. His sword Elenath flashed, cutting down a charging uruk. The Elves came behind, letting their white arrows loose into the Uruk-hai. The creatures recovered from their initial surprise and grabbed their crude weapons, but Anduin was unstoppable.

He cut smoothly through them, holding his ground and allowing the Uruk-hai to come at him. Elenath hummed a lethal song as the ranger swung it, and many an uruk felt the Elven blade's song that day.


	31. 31 Deception

A/N: The song is "The Honey Wind" by Fred Hellerman and Fran Minkoff

**Deception**

Anduin rushed to Eliohad's side; the Elf was hardly recognizable, covered in mud and blood. His long golden hair was tangled and clotted with his blood.

"Labadal?" The Elf asked, his grey eyes struggling to stay open. "I didn't think... you would come..."

"Apparently you are also stupid when you are in pain," the ranger said, cradling his friend to his chest.

"You... should have...gone without me," Eliohad gasped.

"Shh-sh-shh," Anduin hushed him, laying a hand over his forehead as he had seen Elrond do. "Peace." The Elf sighed and lay limp in Anduin's arms, passed out from exhaustion and pain.

Anduin cut the chain around the Elf's neck with a smooth slice of Elenath as Gwindor recovered his two long knives. The Man insisted on carrying Eliohad back to where they had left Moin. The Elf was light, and within a day they found where the dwarves and Higgen were waiting.

The hobbit came running to meet them, but his steps faltered when he saw the limp and pale Elf. "He's not...?"

"No, he's alive," Anduin said, carefully laying Eliohad down on a blanket. "But only just. Smeet, get me hot water. Hani, find any cloth you can and boil it. Higgen, fetch my..." But the ranger was stopped short as the hobbit put his bag of healing herbs in his hand. Anduin flashed a crooked smile at Higgen and set to work.

He bathed the Elf gently, using the cloths Hani had washed and wiping away the grime from his friend's body. All the while he whispered healing spells in the Sindarin tongue, and Higgen stood by, assisting him as Anduin had shown him.

"Elves are strong," Anduin said late at night. "He will recover well. Go to sleep Higgen."

"I'm not tired," the hobbit protested, but Anduin looked up, his blue eyes unusually soft and fragile.

"Please Higgen," he whispered. The hobbit said no more, but turned and went to spread his bedroll beside Thrimich's.

Eliohad murmured in his sleep and turned in Anduin's arms. The ranger had bound his many hurts, but the herbs he had used stung the Elf even in his sleep. Eliohad woke suddenly, his grey eyes flashing open. When he saw Anduin, bent over him, the Elf smiled.

"You look terrible," Anduin said.

"So do you," the Elf whispered, raising a hand to the Man's worried face. "You should sleep, and not worry over me so, Labadal."

"I am taking this back," Anduin said, holding up a small bag he had taken from Eliohad. It was the bag he had put the second fragment of the shield in, and he had taken it from Eliohad's belt. "Lle wethrine amin." (_You deceived me_).

"When did you find out?" The Elf asked weakly.

"I always knew," Anduin said, tying the bag back in its place on his own belt. "Did you think your light handed thievery would go unnoticed?"

"I hoped by replacing it with a decoy... But how did you find out?"

"My leg," Anduin replied. "It got better."

"I tried to disguise that with the Devil's Claw and White Willow," Eliohad admitted. "How could you tell?"

"I've tried those before," the ranger said. "I know what they can do, and what they cannot do." He paused for a moment, carefully studying the Elf's face. "You know this is why the Uruk-hai were drawn to you."

"Yes," Eliohad nodded.

"And what were you going to do? Hope that I'd never notice the pieces had been switched?" Anduin asked softly. "How would that have gone when I had almost all the pieces, but they would not come together? And you dead, goodness knows where, lost in the Rhun?"

"I tried to escape," the Elf said.

"A pretty shoddy job, A'maelamin," the ranger said, pushing some stray golden hair back off Eliohad's face. "You should have known I would come after you."

"I would fall on my sword rather than see you come to any harm," Eliohad repeated.

"Then it's a very good thing they took your weapons from you," Anduin said. "Esta, melamin." (_Sleep_).

They rested there for one week, despite Eliohad's protests. "I am strong enough to go on now, and we are wasting food by staying here."

"I am the leader of this patrol, and I will not leave until I am ready," Anduin said firmly. But when the seventh day came, the ranger did finally give the order to break camp. He insisted on moving slowly, though, claiming it was strenuous terrain for the Elven horses. In reality, he was keeping a close eye on Eliohad.

He kept Phaethon close to Elissa, slowing whenever the mare stumbled or her rider sagged. They traveled over rocky hills and under short blackthorn trees.

The ponies seemed to thrive in these conditions, easily leaping streams and brooks and finding safe paths up the hills.

"The hills north of Brethil are much like this," Anduin explained to Higgen. "But colder, much colder. The Rhaw Nur were born into these surroundings."

That night, as they camped, Eliohad said to Anduin, "I wish to hear a song."

"Someone else can sing," Anduin said, shaking his head.

"I wish to hear you sing," the Elf insisted.

"Very well," the ranger relented. "But only because you are hurt." He paused for a moment, considering. "Because the Autumn is nearly here," he decided.

"The honey wind blows

And the warm days dwindle

The butterfly spins a silk cocoon

On a silvery spindle

The petals fall

From the last red rose

The last red rose

When the honey wind blows.

The petals fall

And the summer goes

The summer goes

When the honey wind blows.

The honey wind blows

And the days grow colder

Somehow the world and I have grown

Just a little bit older

I sit alone

Where the fire glows

The fire glows

And the honey wind blows.

I sit alone

And the Valar know

I miss you so

When the honey wind blows."

Eliohad had fallen asleep, but Higgen was struck yet again by how sweet and gentle the ranger's voice could be when he sang.

"Who taught you to sing?" The hobbit asked, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Eliohad.

"My sister, Ilayilia," Anduin replied. "She taught me many songs; songs of happiness, songs of sorrow. But I only sing the sad songs now."

"I would like to hear you sing a happy song," Higgen said.

"Don't you start now!" Anduin laughed, smiling crookedly. "I'll sing for Eliohad because he is sick, but no more tonight." Higgen thought for a moment, and decided to press his luck. He gave a small fake sneeze.

"I'm sick, too," the hobbit said. "Sing a happy song for me."

"If you are sick, then you need medicine," Anduin said, standing with a mischievous glint in his eye. Higgen scrambled up.

"I'm not really sick!" the hobbit cried, but Anduin was after him. The Man chased the Higgen around the camp, knocking things over and causing the horses to whinny in excitement.

Higgen was breathless with laughter by the time Anduin caught him. The ranger gabbed the hobbit and, holding him upside down, took him back to the fireside.

"So this hobbit needs medicine!" Anduin said, setting Higgen down and tickling him mercilessly. "Take that you little scoundrel!"

"Stop! Stop it," the hobbit laughed uncontrollably. "Or I'll die of laughing."

"Oh, so now you're dying, is that it?" The Man asked. "Be on your way, Master Took, and get some shut eye!"


	32. 32 The Winds

A/N: I'm so sorry I forgot to include this chapter! Mea Culpa! Now, if you'll just put the nice pitchforks and torches down...

**The Winds**

The south-bound wind rushed over the plains with a howl. The company had come from out of the shelter of the trees, and vast golden hills rolled before them. Anduin had paused, his eyes closed and his face turned toward the wind. When he inhaled, he seemed to be breathing in the North wind itself and a reckless, carefree smile danced across his face.

"The wind speaks to him," Eliohad told Higgen, watching the ranger.

"What does it say?" The hobbit asked, watching curiously. "He looks happy."

"He always looks happy when the wind talks to him," the Elf said. "But that doesn't mean it is good news."

Anduin spread his arms open, and the wind seized his cloak and spread it out behind him like a sail. The ranger laughed at the wind's playful pull as it swirled around him, whispering to him, yelling at him, speaking for him.

Suddenly the ranger turned with a frown, all trace of the happiness that the wind had given him gone. He walked back to the company, and mounted Phaethon, still troubled.

"What news?" Eliohad asked.

"Something ill is ahead," the ranger replied, spurring Phaethon forward. "A foul smell of rotting, the screams of hungry children, and evil shadow spreading across the Rhun."

"How flows the wind?"

"Well, as always," Anduin replied, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth at the recollection. "Slightly troubled by what she has seen, but playful. She says the snows are a long way away. That makes her sad."

"When did you learn to speak with the wind?" Higgen asked, overcome by curiosity.

"I don't speak, they speak to me," Anduin corrected him. "I don't know when. The rangers taught me to listen to sounds on the wind and for smells, but I always could hear something in the winds. The four of them are so very different."

"Four of them?"

"East, South, West, and North," Anduin explained. "When I was a boy my father explained that the winds were ponies, and they could either roam across the land or be shut away in their stables.

The East is the gentlest. She is a mare, and where she walks spring is sown. Where she lays down flowers blossom and grow. Her coat is light green and her mane is made from long willow branches.

The West is a stallion, and when he goes forth great rains and storms follow. When he stamps his foot thunder crashes and when he shakes his mane lightening flashes. He can be gentle, especially when he is with the East wind, or wild, when he is with the North wind. He is the color of the purple thunderheads, or of the white clouds.

The North is a mare, and the most temperamental of the four. She is pure white, and snow falls in her wake. Where she paws the ground ice hardens, and when she whinnies it is the sound of an avalanche.

The Southern wind is hot and dry. He is the color of flames and his breath scorches all before him. He brings droughts and wildfires, but also the summer sun that makes the grass grow tall.

It is said that at the end of Time four horsemen will come forth. They will ride the ponies of the wind and the world will be consumed by ice and fire. Where the winds come together will be a paradise and there the horsemen will dismount and live among the Valar."

"Is all of that true?" Higgen asked, wide-eyed.

"It's only a children's story," Anduin said.

"But it would make sense, your being able to talk with the winds and all!" the hobbit said excitedly.

"Perhaps if children's stories were true, it would make sense," the ranger said with a shrug. "But it is hard to believe in children's stories in these hard times. Especially when the wind brings such horrible news."

That night the dwarves passed around bread, pears, and water. Higgen took two pears without a second thought, and then went to find some cheese for his bread.

"Whoa there," Anduin said as the hobbit walked past. The ranger took the second pear from Higgen's hand.

"What are you doing?" Higgen asked, upset.

"One pear is quite enough," Anduin said firmly. "The food is being rationed."

"Why?"

"There is not much ahead," Anduin explained. "Nor much left in the saddle packs."

"It's just one pear!" Higgen cried.

"Mhmm, and where were you off to?"

"To get some cheese..."

"Absolutely not!" Anduin said, stopping him short. And then he softened his voice, "Look, I know it's difficult, especially for a hobbit, but all of us are making do with these small provisions."

"Why can't you just find some more food," Higgen grumbled. "Like you did with the plants last time?" The ranger sighed and swept a hand over the vast, empty hills ahead.

"There is no food out there," he said.

"If you had only kept moving when Eliohad told you too..."

"Enough!" Anduin's eyes flashed. "One pear and one piece of bread. No arguments!"

"I have told Labadal we should veer Westward, and seek shelter and aid in the Halls of King Thranduil," Saerid said. "But he would not hear of it."

"Good for him," Hani replied. "For it's dangerous to go trusting a company such as ourselves to that Elf King. He is known for hating Dwarves."

"And well he should," the Elf said coldly. "Was he not assailed in a war with the Dwarves for many years? Did not your folk lay waste much of Mirkwood?"

"He neglected to pay a debt," the dwarf said, his chest swelling in defiance. "A great amount of gold and jewels were given to him, for which he paid nothing."

"Nothing? He had paid back all that was owed, before the price was raised on trumped up excuses!"

"That was interest!" Hani bellowed. "He took so long in paying the dwarf smiths back that they rightly set an interest rate..."

"And neglected to tell Thranduil!" Saerid fumed. The shouts of their argument became loud, and reached Anduin's ears. He turned Phaethon and hurried him down the line toward where the dwarf and the Elf quarreled.

"If I hear so much as one argumentative word from either of you," Anduin said menacingly. "I will have you tied together."

"He started it," the Saerid and Hani said at the same time.

"That is it!" Anduin yelled, taking a length of rope from his bag.

"You can't be serious!" Saerid said, paling.

"Gwindor, Thrimich, hold them," Anduin said. The two Elves restrained the struggling pair as the ranger tied them together by their forearms.

"How will we fight?" Hani asked, tugging his tied arm.

"Or ride?" Saerid said, looking down distastefully at the rope.

"Together, I suggest," Anduin said. "And if one of you unties or cuts thought that rope, I'll replace it with a chain."

"This isn't fair!" Saerid complained. "He's got his dominant hand free, and I don't! If we are attacked I will surely be killed!"

"If you are killed, Hani will be dragged down and killed also," Anduin said mercilessly. "So you better watch each other's backs."

"Are you really going to keep them like that?" Higgen asked as Phaethon came back to the front of the line.

"Until they stop their bickering, yes," Anduin replied. "They are giving me a headache!" The ranger urged Phaethon up the next hill, where he stopped suddenly and uttered a quiet curse.

"What is it?" Higgen asked, but as he came over the rise he saw what upset Anduin. The land before them was black, a giant field of rot. Where golden waves of grass had once stood, trampled and wilted stalks cowered, as though afraid to raise their heads.

"Is this what the North wind saw?" Anduin whispered to himself. "Is this the death she foretold? As she ran across the wide fields, did she shed a tear for this? When she came to whisper in my ear, did she say this to me? Is this, this what the North wind saw?"

"What happened?" Eliohad asked, staring at the blackened land.

"The Eastern fragment," Anduin replied, broken from his reverie. "We must be swift."


	33. 33 Hunger

**Hunger**

Higgen's stomach rumbled. The hobbit had always been hungry over the past month, since Anduin had started rationing food. But since they had come to the blackened land, the ranger had become even stricter with food.

Higgen hoped that the dwarves would start handing out the food soon. He sat down crossly and waited, watching Smeet and Deet stand over the food packs. What were they talking about? Couldn't they just hurry this up and pass out the dinner? But the dwarf twins continued to sit there, talking away.

At last Deet and Smeet stood and Higgen sighed. "At last!" he thought. But the dwarves did not open the packs and take out the supper, but instead went over to Anduin. The ranger listened, his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Higgen had had about enough of this. The hobbit stood up and marched over the the food packs. Just as he got there, though, Deet stopped him.

"Halt there, Master Took," Deet said. "What are you after?"

"Isn't it time for supper yet?" the hobbit whined, inching closer to the food.

"It would be, aye," the dwarf said, shifting uncomfortably.

"What do you mean by that?" Higgen asked, stopping.

"We... we've run out of food, I'm afraid," Deet said, looking at the ground.

"That can't be," the hobbit scoffed. But when Deet did not reply, Higgen felt a lump in his throat. No food. They had no food. And they were in the middle of a rotting field.

"Anduin!" Higgen cried, his voice high with fright. He ran toward where the ranger sat, deep in conversation with Eliohad. "Anduin, there's no food!"

"I know," Anduin looked very old all of a sudden. He ran his hand through his black hair and sighed.

"What are we going to do about it?" Higgen asked, he could feel the tears rising in his eyes.

"I don't know," the ranger said, putting his face in his hands. "Go away, I have to think."

"But I'm hungry!" Higgen cried. Anduin did not reply, but looked up at someone behind Higgen. The hobbit turned and saw Ciryon standing there. The Elf placed a hand on Higgen's shoulder and led him away.

"He needs to think, little one," Ciryon told him.

"We should have gone to Mirkwood, as I said!" Saerid's voice rang out.

"Oh, shut up," Thrimich moaned. "Go tie yourself to a dwarf!"

That night Higgen sat around the fire with the others, feeling perfectly miserable and positively starving. No one was saying much of anything, just watching the flames dance in the cold night. Anduin had been right, Autumn was upon them.

The hobbit saw something move out of the corner of his eye; it was Anduin. The ranger had been searching the ground outside the camp for hours now, but what he was looking for Higgen could only guess.

The company set off the next morning, everyone feeling very glum and hungry. Anduin had declared that everyone would have to walk, because soon the horses would weaken without food.

"Always concerned for the horse," Higgen heard Brin grumble, and the hobbit agreed with him. All he wanted was to get in and out of this waste land as quickly as possible. Anduin still led the column, limping even more heavily than before. The hills had flattened away during the past few days, leaving a clear views for miles.

"What's that, up ahead?" Higgen asked, squinting in the noon sun. His voice was thick with thirst.

"I think," Anduin said hesitantly. "It might be a river." The company cheered, hopeful that with water would come food as well.

The water flowed sluggishly past, its course chocked by weeds and algae. Anduin bent down and tasted a small sip of the water before spitting it out again.

"Fouled," he declared. Higgen was not the only one who groaned in disappointment.

"East of the River Running... in a great mound," Anduin muttered to himself, his eyes scanning ahead. "Yavannah will provide..."

Something seemed to click into place in Anduin's eyes. "Yavannah will provide," he repeated, louder than dropped Phaethon's reins and limped hurriedly back the way they had come. The rest of the company turned and stared at his retreating figure.

The ranger knelt down when he was past all of the horses and ponies. Higgen and Eliohad had followed him. Anduin placed his hand on the ground, pushing it deep into the rotting soil. When he lifted up his hand, there was a deep impression in the soil. Anduin watched this hole carefully.

A tiny white thing moved at the bottom of the hold. At first Higgen thought it a worm, but it grew thicker and green. It was a tiny plant, unfolding its leaves to soak up the sun that the soil had separated from it. Anduin reached his hand down and touched the little plant; it curled around his finger as though embracing him.

Anduin carefully, gently dug his fingers into the soil, pulling up the plant by its roots. But where the roots should have been was a large tuber, huge in proportion to the rest of the plant.

Taking his curved hunting knife, Anduin peeled the tuber, revealing a creamy yellow interior. The ranger carved a small piece from this and held it up for Eliohad to see. The Elf took the piece placed it in his mouth. His eyes widened as he chewed and swallowed it.

"The blessings of Yavannah," the Elf said in awe.

Anduin had the company clear a small area, about ten square feet, and push aside the rotten soil that coated it. As they did so more and more plants opened their leaves to the sun, and the company were able to dig up large numbers of the tubers.

The Elves named the plant Manadh, which means bliss. The dwarves named it Good Eating. Manadh tasted a little like a salty potato, but it proved tasty no matter which way you prepared it: raw, boiled, cooked, even roasted.

"Everything's going to be all right now," Higgen said contentedly.

"Trust a hobbit to think so once he's got a full stomach," Anduin said, rolling his eyes. "We've still got to find a way across that river."

"Oh that," Higgen replied, waving a hand dismissively. "The horses can swim that."

"Oh, you think so?" Anduin asked. "With all that muck blocking it up? Their legs would be tangled and they would be dragged down, not to mention what will happen if some foul creature lives in it."

"Can't you just be happy?" Higgen sighed, but he knew that the ranger's fears were not unwarranted.


	34. 34 The Earthworm of Doom Attacks

**The Earthworm of Doom Attacks**

Eliohad woke when he heard the rustle of fabric next to him. He opened his eyes and saw Anduin sitting down. The moon was far in the night sky.

"Have you slept not at all?" The Elf asked, sitting up. The ranger merely shook his head. "Is it your ring?"

"No," the Man whispered. "No, I have been looking for a way to cross the river."

"Have you found one?"

"I think so," Labadal replied, his voice etched with weariness. "I hope so."

"You should rest," Eliohad told him. "You look terrible."

"So I've been told." At last, that crooked smile Eliohad so longed to see!

"If you will not sleep," the Elf said. "Then show me what you have found." So Anduin led Eliohad to a place on the river bank not far from where they were camping. Here the river almost entirely ceased its movement, completely blocked by the reeds.

"Look," Anduin said, pointing across the water.

"I don't under-" the Elf began.

"Look," the ranger repeated. Eliohad looked over the water, his Elf eyes probing for what the Man saw. At last he understood, and he allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

"Of course," he whispered. "From the fleeing Easterlings."

A road, almost entirely obscured by the rotten soil and the trailing river weeds, had been built through the river. It disappeared into the murky depths, but emerged true and straight on the other side.

In the morning Anduin led the company over this low water crossing. The horses splashed through, the stagnant water up to their knees. Many had shied away at first, but Anduin spoke softly to them.

"_..._ _But Calenor, with soft words and gentle persuasion, won over the heart of the stallion Uricon..." _How many months ago had Anduin told Higgen that story? The hobbit could not remember. But how Anduin had changed!

Or perhaps Anduin had never changed. Perhaps he was as immune to time as the Elves. But if that was the case, it was Higgen who had changed.

Higgen who had gone on an adventure to Rivendell so many months ago. Could the hobbit he was then have possibly imagined him the way he was now? Mounted on a pony, crossing a vast wasteland on his way to save Middle-Earth? It sounded like a children's tale!

"_But it is hard to believe in children's stories in these hard times..." _

An eagle flew overhead, proud to soar against the bright sun. The north wind blew, tugging Higgen's hair so that its curls flew around his face. Phaethon snorted, pawing the ground. And behind them a small green area of the Manadh continued to bloom in the morning sunlight.

How very much Anduin had shown him, he who was just an unimportant little hobbit from Tooktown!

"What's that?" Moin asked, pointing to a bump on the horizon.

"I believe it is what we are searching for," Anduin said. "_He laid down his piece in a great mound in Rhun, south of the Iron Hills and east of the River Running," _that's what the writing said."

"How far are we from it?" Moin asked, placing a broad hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun's glare.

"Two days," Anduin guessed.

"Seems a fair bit nearer than that!" Moin commented.

"That is because the plain is so flat and we can see so far," Anduin explained. "It plays tricks on our eyes. I think it will take us two days."

So they continued to travel, stopping at night to sleep and gather more Manadh. And every hour the mound grew; from a bump to a pebble, from a pebble to a boulder, and from a boulder into a great smooth hillock.

As they grew closer, Anduin became pale and drawn, speaking little and eating less. His limp grew so bad that he could not walk by himself, but still he allowed none to take the fragments of the shield from him.

"Not after last time," was all he would say, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Nothing he himself nor Eliohad did could soothe his leg.

The sun rose on the third day, seeming to come up from out of the mound itself. The dwarves had a few shovels with them, and they began to dig that morning after a breakfast of Manadh.

Eliohad would not allow Anduin to climb the mound, but forced him to sit down and rest. He brought him pieces of Manadh to eat, but the ranger chewed slowly and had difficulty swallowing.

"They're getting close," he said during the afternoon. The dwarves had been digging all day, taking turns in shifts to do so. "The fragments are shaking."

"So are you," Eliohad pointed out dryly.

"I am fine," Anduin insisted.

It was Deet and Smeet's turn on the shovels. They were pushing the shovels into the earth and then grunting with the exertion of lifting the heavy clods from the ground.

"By Aule, the sun is hot," Deet said, mopping the sweat from his brow.

"Tough soil, this," Smeet replied, straightening his back with a groan. "Look at me, trembling from exertion!"

"Me too!" Deet yelled, holding up his shaking hands.

"Hey, your entire body's shaking!" Smeet said. "You feeling all right?"

"Why, you're shaking yourself!" Deet replied. "Look at you!" Smeet looked down and saw that his entire body was shaking.

"Steady on," the dwarf said slowly. "You don't think that's the ground shaking, do you?" Deet looked around worriedly.

"Like an earthquake, you mean?" Suddenly the ground beneath their feet erupted and the dwarves' screams were cut short.

"What was that?" Anduin said, drawing Elenath from its sheath. Something was pushing its way up out of the mound. It dragged its huge, pink bulk from the dirt and flopped over the side of the hillock with a wet thump.

"It's... a worm," Higgen said, disbelieving. But the gigantic worm turned its head, Higgen presumed it was its head but he never could be sure with worms, and opened its mouth.

"Run!" Anduin yelled, grabbing Higgen and pulling him out of the way just in time. The worm spat poisonous fumes at the place where the hobbit had just been standing. The ranger rolled, still clutching the hobbit, and came to his feet a few yards away.

There stood Saerid and Hani, tied together as they had been for the last week.

"When was the last time you fought?" Anduin asked them, setting the hobbit down.

"Yesterday!" Hani shouted.

"An hour ago!" Saerid yelled at the same time. The dwarf and the Elf looked at each other in surprise.

"What he said," they said at the same time.

"Close enough," Anduin drew his hunting knife and slashed at the ropes that bound them together. No sooner had the bonds fell away than Anduin yelled, "Split!"

The worm had spat another glob of poison where they had stood, but Anduin had warned them in time. He and Higgen jumped to the left while Saerid and Hani rolled away to the right.

Anduin stood, planting his feet firmly on the ground, watching the worm carefully. It wove to the right, and Anduin shifted. It compensated by weaving back to the left, but Anduin only gripped his sword tighter. The worm opened its mouth, revealing a terrible hole line with teeth that dripped green acid. Anduin replied by baring his own teeth in a snarl.

The Elves and dwarves were trying to creep around behind the worm, but it turned its head sharply and breathed poison at them. Most scrambled away in time, but a few were not so lucky.

"Hey, bad-breath!" Anduin yelled, catching the monster's attention. "That's right, you disgusting excuse for an earthworm!"

"Um, Anduin," Higgen said fearfully from where he hid behind the ranger's cloak. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping its attention."

"Oh, good job then," the hobbit squeaked. The worm reared back, as a cobra might, and hissed. It lunged forward, surprisingly swiftly for a massive worm, its mouth open wide. Anduin dodged out of the way, pushing Higgen to the other side. The worm hit the ground between them, getting a large mouthful of dirt.

Instead of stopping, it continued plowing into the dirt, its enormous pink body following behind. It disappeared into the hole it had made.

"Everyone, hold your ground and be on your toes," Anduin warned. "We don't know where..." The ground shook and crumbled apart again as the worm resurfaced. It opened its mouth, a massive green spitball poised to aim at Anduin.

"Togo hon dad, Eliohad! Dago hon!" (_Bring it down, Eliohad! Kill it!_)

It seemed as though it would be too late. The worm inhaled deeply, preparing to hurl its poisonous breath at the ranger, who stood alone and defenseless. But a cluster of white arrows flew into the mouth of the monster and stuck in its throat.

The worm roared, its body lifted off the ground in a wretched spasm. It writhed in the air, blocking the sunlight, before falling with a mighty crash.

Anduin stood, panting hard, and looked down at the monstrous worm. "Hannon lle," (_Thank you_) he said softly, sinking to his knees.

"A guard," Thrimich said, looking over the corpse.

"And where is the fragment?" Anduin asked.

"Deet and Smeet never had a chance," Moin said, tears falling down his cheeks and mingling in his beard. "It just swallowed them whole."

"Where is the fragment?" Anduin asked again. "Is it lost?" Brin came forth, bearing the piece of metal in a cloth.

"So that their deaths will not be in vain," the ranger said, placing the fragment in yet another drawstring bag. Moin met Anduin's eyes, and nodded in understanding.

"What was that?" Higgen asked, staring at the dead worm.

"A wereworm," Eliohad answered, nudging it with his foot.

"I thought those were a myth," Gwindor said. "Designed to frighten children."

"Well, it's very real, and very frightening," Eliohad said, turning to help Anduin to his feet.

"Come, let's be on our way," Anduin said, limping over to where Phaethon stood. The pony was nervous, dancing around in agitation. "We don't want something else to find us here."


	35. 35 What Happens to Horses

A/N: Agh! I accidentally forgot to post one chapter! Please skip back to Chapter 32: The Winds. Hopefully things will make a little more sense!

I would also like to take this space to thank my reviewers. Please skip ahead if you haven't reviewed yet. In fact, skip to the bottom of the page and press the review button to remedy this situation. I will answer questions as best as a can if you ask!

Doris the Younger: I did actually consult the Bible of Tolkien (aka, the Complete Guide to Middle-Earth) for Steward's names at about this time (which is actually right before the Hobbit as Smaug will make a cameo appearance later) but the name that would be about this time was missing! So I, er, played with the other names and came up with Lord Erilion. Lord Eradan is actually a part of the list, he is Lord Denethor's great-grandfather. As for the story being slow-moving, I sadly cannot include giant earthworms in every chapter (would that I could without having to change the title to A Ridiculous Number of Earthworms Attack Anduin!). And Higgen... Higgen is basically a typical hobbit serving as a narrator. He enjoys food (perhaps a little too much) comfort, and (being a Took after all) is a little too adventurous for his neighbors' tastes.

roxasrules: That's very sweet of you to say, I do try my best.

Last but certainly not least, Pineapple fetish: thank you for being my most faithful reader. Some times I feel that I am posting chapters solely for you to read.

**What Happens to Horses When They Die?**

They followed the path of the Caren River northward, out of the rotting wasteland and back into the golden hills. But now a chill wind shook the tall grass, which was stiff and rattled in the breeze. Higgen knew that at home it would be the harvest time, and all of Tooktown would be coming together to gather the wheat and shuck the corn. His brothers would all be competing to see who had grown the largest pumpkin.

But when Higgen looked back and thought of the desert in Southern Gondor and the wasteland of the Rhun, he wondered if the harvest would be happening at all in the Shire. If the dying fields he had left behind had spread to all of the Shire, causing the hobbits to flee before it just as the Easterlings and Gondorians had fled from the famine. The thought made Higgen shudder with horror.

A heavy rain began to fall, fat drops of water that fell and were caught in Belladonna's mane. The raindrops pattered against the mare's coat, darkening it with their wetness. Up ahead Anduin pulled the hood of his cloak over his dark hair, protecting it from the downpour.

The road turned into a river of mud, so that the horses and ponies were hard pressed to slog through it. Caran, Moin's pony, gave a pitiful shriek as she pulled her leg from from where it was stuck in the mud. Anduin immediately dismounted and, limping through the mud, came back to where Caran and Moin stood.

The ranger felt the pony's leg carefully. Higgen was just close enough to hear what Anduin said to the dwarf.

"She's hurt it, sprained I think."

"Will she be all right?" Moin asked, patting her side with concern.

"She's very old," Anduin said sadly. "And very tired. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I'm afraid you won't be able to ride her," Anduin said. "And I don't want to force her any further through this rain. I'm so very sorry, but we must leave her."

"But... but you can't just," Moin said. "I mean... she won't be able... able to survive?"

"She is descended from the Merka Fea," Anduin replied, his eyes downcast. The rain dripped from his hood slowly. "If it is to be, he will look after her."

"But... but I can't just leave her," Moin said sorrowfully. Anduin merely shook his head and gestured to Higgen.

"You may take Belladonna," he said. "For she is mine to give. Higgen may ride with me for a time."

The hobbit did not truly want to give up his pony for the dwarf, but Anduin's eyes pleaded with him. Higgen slid out of the saddle, landing up to his ankles in mud, and came to where Anduin stood with Phaethon.

As they rode away, Phaethon's head low against the downpour, Higgen looked back to watch Caran. The mare whickered pathetically as they moved away and tried to follow. But when she put weight on her hurt leg, it gave out and she lay down in the middle of the muddy road.

Higgen looked up at Anduin and saw that the ranger was crying very silently. He stared straight ahead, but every time Caran cried out another tear mixed with the rain drops on his face.

"Where do horses go when they die?" Higgen heard the question slip from his mouth. Anduin blinked, coming out of his own thoughts.

"I suppose they go to live with Orome, the Great Rider," Anduin said thoughtfully. "For it was he who brought the first lords of the horses to Middle-Earth."

"Is Uricon there?"

"Yes, I think so. And Dhaeraow, too. I imagine it is a green pasture where they can run free and all the sorrows of this world are lifted from them."

"Do you think we'll ever get to see it?" Higgen asked quietly.

"I hope so, little hobbit," Anduin sighed. "I hope that they are there, waiting for me, across the Sea."


	36. 36 Dragons and Dwarves

**Dragons and Dwarves**

The rain did not let up for the rest of that day, that night, or the next day. They had packed enough Manadh for a little while, but the constant rain made it impossible to light a fire.

By the time the rain finally slowed it was evening. They made camp, but it was very muddy and cold and all around miserable. Anduin was on edge, trying to catch a bit of the wind's whispering, but all was still and calm.

"Eliohad?" Anduin called. The Elf looked up and saw that the ranger was looking up at the Western sky.

"Yes?"

"What do your Elf eyes make of that?" Anduin asked, pointing to a twisting shadow in the west.

"Just some thunderhead," Higgen said, squinting at the black shape. "Isn't it?" Eliohad was silent, narrowing his eyes.

"Dragon," the Elf said suddenly. "Smaug, I believe." This gravely upset the dwarves, and they were all for packing up then and there and fleeing eastward.

"No," Anduin said firmly. "Smaug is greedy, but lazy. He will not come for us here; if he is hungry he will go to Laketown."

"You can't trust a dragon to do anything," Moin said darkly. "Or you'll end up dead for it."

"Unless you have some hidden treasure trove," Anduin said. "Then we do not need to fear the Great Lizard. Come, and let us eat."

That night Higgen slept uneasily, his dreams alive with winged wereworms that carried off the ponies. When a hand shook him awake, the hobbit started and cried out in fear.

"Easy there," Anduin said, his blue eyes concerned. "You were having a nightmare." Higgen sat up with a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"I suppose I was," the hobbit said.

"Come on, we're just about ready to leave."

"But it's still dark!" Higgen protested.

"The sky is overcast," Anduin said. "Come."

Higgen sighed as they left the camp. He wished he was home in his hobbit hole in front of a roaring fire, with a pie in the oven.

Suddenly Phaethon reared and bucked wildly, throwing the hobbit to the ground. Shouts rang out and the air resounded with the clash of metal on metal. Thunder cracked, and Higgen desperately tried to flee Phaethon's kicking hooves. The hobbit stumbled and tripped over something. When he looked to see what it was, he gave a small cry of fright.

Anduin lay dead on the ground, his blue eyes glazed over and blood trickling from his mouth. Higgen screamed and tried to crawl away from the dead body. Something grabbed his leg, stopping him and pulling him back.

The metal fragments of the shield had come alive. They were trying to drag him back, back into a shadow that blocked out all light.

"Higgen!" A voice called, and at its sound the metal released him and the shadow dissolved. "Higgen, wake up!"

The hobbit's eyes opened wide, and stared at Phaethon's rain drenched mane.

"You were having another nightmare," Anduin said.

"You were dead!" Higgen babbled wildly. "And then the metal came to life and it tried to kill me..."

"It was just a dream, Higgen," the ranger shushed him. "A bad dream."

"It seemed so very real," the hobbit said, burying his head in Anduin's cloak.

"It wasn't. See, I'm fine!" Anduin said soothingly, patting the hobbit's curls smooth. "It's over now." Higgen inhaled a shaky breath and looked around at their surroundings. The River Carnen still flowed alongside them, rolling down to the distant Sea. But now up ahead there were some tall hills, iron grey in the shadow of the clouds.

"The Iron Hills," Anduin answered when Higgen asked about them. "We will go there on our way north."

As they approached the bases of the slate-colored hills, Anduin became more and more uneasy. Higgen could feel the ranger tensing behind him and could see the knuckles of his hands go white as they held the reins.

"Is something wrong?" Higgen asked nervously.

"Someone is watching us," Anduin said. "Or something." Phaethon fidgeted and pawed the ground worriedly. "What's up boy? You feel something too?" The horse whinnied softly, and tossed his long red mane.

Phaethon began to turn in tight circles, first one way and then another, worrying the ground with his nose. Suddenly he snapped his head up and his ears flicked forward. Phaethon let out a wild trumpet of a neigh and reared up, kicking the air with his feet.

Remembering his nightmare, Higgen clung to the pommel of the saddle as Phaethon repeatedly put his feet down and then reared.

"DRAGON!" Anduin yelled. A giant red dragon was twisting through the air, headed straight for their company. "Flee! Flee into the hills!" Anduin shouted, jerking Phaethon's head and kicking him forward. The stallion turned and bolted in between two of the hills, the other horses and ponies not far behind.

The sky behind them was lit with an orange flame. The horses, the whites of their eyes wide with terror, sped up. They wove in among the hills, galloping along their bases.

"In here!" A voice cried and a door in a hillside opened wide. Anduin turned towards it and Phaethon shot through into the passage beyond. "Hurry!" A gruff voice urged them. Hoofbeats filled the passage as the other horses and ponies followed Phaethon.

There came a sound a door slamming and the light from outside was completely cut off.

"This way!" the voice said from the darkness. A flicker of flame and a torch flared to life in the cavern. It was held by a dwarf wearing chain mail with small gold pieces braided in his beard.

The dwarf led them further along the passage, which sloped steadily downward. The ceiling of the cavern also sloped downwards, so that Anduin had to duck his head.

"Hurry!" the dwarf said, running forward with his torch. Phaethon followed at a trot, still trembling from his encounter with the dragon. Just when it seemed that Anduin would have to get down and walk after all, the tunnel opened into a large room.

It was a smithy; a fire fed by a large bellows, an anvil, and pieces of unfinished armor lining the walls.

"Further in!" The dwarf insisted, pointing into yet another tunnel that branched out from this cave. Anduin dismounted and followed, leading Phaethon beside him. Higgen was short enough that he could stay sitting on the pony's back.

"Faster!" The dwarf called over his shoulder. The entire company quickened their pace, alerted by their rescuer's urgency. "Not far now!"

His torch was the only light in this dark, underground passage. They went downwards still, into the depths of the earth.

Without warning a blinding burst of fire came up behind them. The horses at the back of the company shrieked and skittered. Higgen was startled at first, but soon he saw that the fire was not in the passage. The dwarf had led them far enough into the tunnel that the blast could not reach even the last pony in their line.

"Come," the dwarf said, laying a hand on Anduin's arm. "Farther in, farther down." Anduin glanced once more down the tunnel, where the fiery blast had died down into a dimly glowing ember.

"Smaug doesn't usually come here," the dwarf said. Higgen started, for it was the most the dwarf had spoken yet. "Doesn't like to leave his treasure. But we know what to do when he comes hunting, yes. Not like you. Need to get inside the earth, into the heart of Aule. Dragons can't come here."

"My thanks, ai' atar, for saving us," (_Little Father_), Anduin said. "I am called Labadal."

"Elf name," the dwarf grunted in response. The dwarf glanced backwards where Gwindor walked, leading his horse. "Never saved Elves before. Name's Poika."

"Do you live alone, Master Poika?" Anduin asked.

"Just Poika. Not Master," the dwarf grumbled. "No."

"Sorry?" Anduin asked. Higgen was glad he was not the only one having difficulty understanding the dwarf.

"Not alone," Poika repeated. "Others here. Turn here." Abruptly the dwarf turned down another passage. It was a sharp turn, and Phaethon did not want to twist around.

"What's wrong?" Poika's head poked back out of the passage.

"He's just being stubborn," Anduin said. "Tula sinome. Cordof!" (_Come here. Apple!_) Phaethon's ears flicked forward and he entered the tunnel eagerly, snuffling Anduin's hand for the promised treat. "Later, boy," Anduin assured him, patting his nose.

"Talks to the horse," Poika said. "Not normal."

"Lead on, Poika," Anduin told the dwarf.

"Lead where?" Poika asked. "We're here." With that he raised his torch and lit a torch that was in a bracket in the wall. The dwarf went around the room, lighting other torches, and their light revealed a vast cavern. "The Inner Hall," Poika announced.

It was a stone chamber, carved in the hill itself. A long table ran down the middle of it, enough for some fifty Men to feast comfortably. A large stone fireplace was carved into the far wall and various swords, spears, pikes, and axes were hung along the wall.

"Stay here," Poika said. Then the dwarf disappeared, probably into one of the many tunnels that led off of the cavern.

"Will do," Anduin said, lifting Higgen from Phaethon's back. "I had no idea dwarves lived in the Iron Hills, did you Moin?"

"Some came here fleeing Smaug," Moin replied. "But I didn't know they had dug such elaborate dwellings."

They remained in the Inner Hall for a long while, Higgen wasn't sure how long because there was no way to measure the sun's progress across the sky. Poika did not return, nor did they see anyone else. But at last a light shone from one of the tunnels and a dwarf appeared behind it. It was not Poika, but a rather older dwarf with a long grey beard with a variety of gold bits and bobs plaited in.

"Moin!" The newcomer bellowed. "Good to see you laddie!"

"Dilkoin!" Moin called back, running to embrace the dwarf.

"What were you doing out with a band of Elves? Running from Smaug I hear!" Dilkoin asked, pounding Moin on the back.

"Come Dilkoin, there's someone I want you to meet!" Moin said, pulling the dwarf over to Anduin. "This is my traveling companion, Anduin son of Alenor." Anduin winced ever so slightly as Moin said his correct name. Dilkoin shook Anduin's hand in his massive, leathery one.

"I'm Dilkoin son of Gloin son of Glan," the dwarf said.

"So that would make you Moin's...?" Anduin asked, smiling crookedly.

"Uncle!" Dilkoin said proudly. "And leader of this colony."

"Thank you for allowing us to rest here," Anduin said politely.

"Stay for dinner!" Dilkoin insisted. "The horses can be stabled and we'll get a proper meal in all of you."

"That is very kind of you," the ranger replied. Dilkoin clapped his hands and eighteen dwarves emerged from the shadows of various passages. They took away the horses and ponies before Anduin could say so much as a word. Other dwarves came in bearing plates of roast meat, thick bread, and mugs of malt beer.

"The hospitality of the dwarves is famous!" Dilkoin said as the dwarves began to set the supper on the long table. The fireplace soon had a roaring fire and the company were all seated at the long table.

Dwarves served them all quickly and fairly quietly, pouring drinks and placing loaded plates in front of each member of their company. Dilkoin sat at the head of the table, presiding over it all.

"Diedre, top off the gentleman's drink! Haffid, give Anduin the choicest meat, there's a good dwarf. Achad, give the little one some butter with that bread!" A dwarf scurried over the Higgen and reached over him to put a plate of butter on the table at his elbow.

This dwarf's beard, along with many of the other servers', was shorter than other dwarves'. Higgen caught the soft brown eyes that peered at him from under thick eyebrows and gave a small gasp of recognition. It was a woman.

All of the dwarf servers with the shorter beards were women! The hobbit was so shocked at his discovery, not to mention slightly unnerved, that he didn't notice Anduin's conversation with Dilkoin.

"... North you say?" the dwarf asked, taking a long drink of mead. "With winter coming on? You're mad, laddie!"

"So I've been told," Anduin said, smiling into his own cup. "But be that as it may...?"

"I guess you can't dissuade the mad from anything," Dilkoin sighed, as though greatly sorrowed to say this. "But I'd say, if you have your heart set on it, that you go up around the mountains. Don't want to get stuck in a pass in the middle of a blizzard!"

"Would you go north of the mountains, or south?" Anduin asked.

"Neither!" Dilkion boomed. "But I guess that's not the answer you're looking for. North is the best way, in my opinion. In the north you've got the weather, but south of those mountains is swarming with goblins!"

"Have you heard of any wasteland north of the mountains? Any unexplainable famines, or deserts?" the ranger asked curiously.

"Laddie, everything north of those mountains is a wasteland!"

"But have you heard of anything in particular?"

"No one comes to the Iron Hills," Dilkoin said, suddenly serious. "Our treasure is iron, not gold and so none come here. But if I'd heard of any news from the north, I'd tell you."

"Thank you, my friend," Anduin said. The fire in the hearth was whipped from side to side, and a strange howling filled the Inner Hall, causing Higgen to jump.

"It's all right," Dilkoin told the hobbit. "Chimney makes that noise when the wind blows."

"Is there some way I could get outside?" Anduin asked hopefully.

"Aye, Smaug's long gone," Dilkoin said. "I'll have Poika show you the way. Oi, Poika!" The dwarf appeared at Dilkoin's elbow. "Show our guest to the rooftop," the dwarf told him. Poika bowed and gestured for Anduin to follow him.

The Man was gone for a long time, and he returned only when the feasting was done and bedrolls had been laid out for the company.

"What does the wind say?" Eliohad asked as Anduin re-entered. The ranger bowed to Poika who turned and left without a word.

"A lot more than that dwarf," Anduin replied, settling down on his bedroll with a groan. "She's bringing the snow soon; that makes her happy."

"Did she tell you anything of what lies north of the mountains?" the Elf asked.

"I asked her about that," Anduin said. "But she doesn't want to talk about what she's seen there. She wanted to play. But eventually she told me something."

"What did she say?" Higgen asked, resting his chin in the cup of his hand.

"Gundabad. That's all she would say," the ranger shrugged. "Gundabad. She whispered it at first, but when I didn't understand she became upset. She howled and screamed and pulled me around. 'Gundabad!' she wailed. 'Gundabad!' And then, suddenly, she was gone."


	37. 37 Gundabad

A/N: The poem Gundabad is actually a variation of Tolkien's poem "Durin".

**Gundabad**

"Are you sure?" Anduin asked Moin again.

"Aye," the dwarf answered.

"You have been a great friend in traveling, and a great ally in battle," the ranger said, placing a hand on Moin's shoulder. "I am sorry to leave you."

"And I will be sorry to see you go," Moin said, patting Anduin's hand. "But we are going to stay with my uncle, me and what's left of mine."

"Truly our losses have been great," Anduin sighed.

"You take care of yourself, lad," Moin said. "And the little hobbit, too."

Saerid and Hani stood a little way off, watching the rest of their company say their goodbyes.

"I never thought that I would say this," Saerid said, his voice dropping to a nearly incoherent murmur. "But I'll... m...you."

"What's that?" Hani asked.

"I said I...ms...you," the Elf repeated.

"I can't understand you," the dwarf grumbled. "Speak up!"

"I'll miss you!" Saerid shouted into the dwarf's ear. Hani blushed deep red and began frantically stroking his beard.

"Oh, er..." he mumbled. "Um, same to you."

Moin and all the dwarves that had started this journey with them stood on the hill as Anduin, Higgen, and the Elves rode away.

"I'll send you some new ponies!" Anduin called, raising a hand in farewell. Moin called something after him, but Anduin could not hear what he said, for the wind snatched his words as soon as they left his mouth.

"On, to Gundabad," Anduin said.

"Who is Gundabad?" Higgen asked.

"Not who, but what," Anduin said. "I believe Eliohad knows a poem about it."

"Gundabad?" The Elf asked. "Ah, yes.

The Earth was young, the mountains green,

No stain yet on the Moon was seen,

No words were laid on stream or stone

When Durin woke and walked alone

He named the nameless hills and dells

He drank from yet untasted wells;

He stooped and looked in Mirrormere

And saw a crown of stars appear,

As gems upon a silver thread

Above the shadow of his head

In Gundabad, fair Gundabad.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,

In Elder Days before the fall

Of mighty kings of Nargothrond

And Gondolin, who now beyond

The Western Seas have passed away

The world was fair in Durin's Day

In Gundabad, fair Gundabad.

A king he was on carven throne

In many-pillared halls of stone

With golden roof and silver floor

And runes of power upon the door.

The light of sun and star and moon

In shining lamps of crystal hewn

Undimmed by cloud or shade of night

There shone for ever fair and bright

In Gundabad, fair Gundabad.

The hammer on the anvil smote,

There chisel close, and graver wrote,

There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;

The delver mined, the mason built,

There beryl, pearl, and opal bale,

And metal wrought like fishes' mail,

Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,

And shining spears were laid in hoard

In Gundabad, fair Gundabad.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;

Beneath the mountains music woke;

The harpers harped, the minstrels sand

And at the gate the trumpets rang

In Gundabad, fair Gundabad.

The world is grey, the mountains old,

The forge's fire is ashen cold;

No harp is wrung, no hammer falls,

The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;

The shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dum.

But still the sunken stars appear

In dark and windless Mirrormere;

There lies his crown in water deep,

Till Durin wakes again from sleep,

In Gundabad, foul Gundabad."

"That sounds very lovely," Higgen said.

"It was," Eliohad replied. "Until it became a stronghold for goblins in the War of Dwarves and Goblins."

"Oh, so they're no longer the halls of Durin?" Higgen asked, crestfallen.

"Not for many years now," Anduin said. "I'm afraid we are going into the wasps' nest."

"Why couldn't this adventuring business be easy for once?" the hobbit sighed.


	38. 38 The North Wind's Wrath

**The North Wind's Wrath**

Snow had fallen in a thick white blanket. It coated the land with its cold embrace, and frosted the horses' manes.

"It's beautiful!" Higgen had said when he woke up that first morning and saw the undisturbed landscape.

"You'll get tired of it really soon," Thrimich said. Dilkoin had given them extra blankets for themselves and the horses as well as thick fur coats. He had also given Anduin a thick, tall walking stick. The ranger leaned upon this now, watching both Higgen and Phaethon frolic in the snow.

Phaethon pranced through the white fields, kicking up the white blanket with his hooves. He stopped and lay down in a particularly thick patch of snow and rolled over in it. When he stood bits of flakes were stuck in his thick brown coat. Phaethon snorted, and his breath came out in a warm cloud.

Anduin whistled and Phaethon returned meekly, much as a child who wishes to keep playing. The Man laughed and brushed the snow from the horse's coat. "Rhiw roch, sui gloss sui mearas!" (_Winter horse, as white as a mearas!_) he laughed.

But Thrimich was right, and Higgen did soon tire of the snow. Especially when they rounded the eastern end of the Grey Mountains and the North wind caught them full between the mountains.

Of the horses, only Phaethon seemed resilient in the cold. The Elves' horses huddled together, trying to block the freezing blast of the wind, but Phaethon stood alone. The wind caught up his mane in a great rush and pulled it this way and that, but his pony's thick coat kept away its chill.

Higgen was so cold during riding that he wore not only his fur coat, but also two of his blankets. Anduin, like Phaethon, seemed fairly resistant to the cold and wore only his thick cloak. It was his presence at the hobbit's back that kept him from freezing.

Sometimes the snow drifts were so deep and so large that Phaethon was up to his chest in them, plowing a path. The Elven horses followed, miserable, in his tracks.

Fires at night were necessary, but also difficult for lack of fuel. Too often the fire was so small that Higgen feared they would all freeze.

No one would have made it through without Anduin's tea. In the morning and at night the ranger would melt and then boil kettlefuls of snow. To these he added so dry herbs from his silver-grey bag. The result was deliciously warm and surprisingly energizing. Anduin also made sure that the horses were warm enough at night.

"The wind is angry," Anduin said to himself one night.

"What about?" Higgen asked, blowing on his tea to cool it down.

"The mountains," Anduin replied. "She does not like them. She has to climb over or go around them. She wants to tear them down."

"What is she going to do?" Eliohad asked. Anduin closed his eyes and listened closely.

"She's going to tear down the mountains."

"She can't do that," Higgen said, sipping his tea and savoring the taste.

"Get the horses into the cleft!" Anduin shouted, pointing to a crack in the mountainside.

"Why?" Higgen asked, startled by the ranger's urgency.

"Just do it!" The Elves jumped up and pulled their horses into the shelter of the cliff. It was so tight that there was no way for the Elves to squeeze out past their horses. Anduin came last, leading Phaethon and pushing Higgen in front of him.

"What's going on?" Higgen asked.

"She's going to tear down the mountains," Anduin repeated, pushing the hobbit into the cleft and following him. As soon as Phaethon's tail was between the rocks the wind picked up with a howl. It slammed the mountains, which creaked and moaned.

"No matter how hard the wind howls," Gwindor said. "The mountain cannot bow to it." The wind was screaming now, picking up snow and hurling it at the rock face.

"She blows the stars around and sets the clouds flying," Anduin said, bracing himself against the blast. "She makes the mountains sound like people are out there dying." It was the words of a poem, but Higgen could not catch the rest of it. For the wind's wailing passage among the peaks of the mountains did create a horrible howl, as though a woman was crying out in pain.

It was a blizzard. Beyond Phaethon the world had become a white wall. The storm raged against the mountains, pushing up against the unrelenting rock.

"Is she really going to bring the mountain down?" Higgen tried to ask, but Anduin could not hear him over the storm. Night came, but Higgen could only tell that by the greying of the white storm outside.

Some snow fell into where they were sheltered, but the overhanging rock face kept them dry most of the night, if a little cramped. Higgen hoped that the dawn would bring a stop to the crying that the wind was making in the mountains. It was disturbingly real.

When the storm did stop, sometime in the night, it left a wall of snow blocking the cleft's entrance. Gwindor and Thrimich managed to climb over this on their light Elven feet and the rest of the company waited for their return.

"It's only a few yards thick!" Thrimich's voice called over the snow bank. "You'll have to push though."

"Come on, rhiw roch," (_winter horse_) Anduin told Phaethon. "Tegibo." (_Lead on_). The pony began to back up slowly, sending a shower of snow on the rest of the horses who snorted in annoyance.

Phaethon did eventually break a path through the snow bank with the help of Gwindor and Thrimich. The Elves' led their horses up through this path and out in the blindingly white morning.

If Minas Tirith was a mountain of ice, a pale imitation of the mountains at it's back; then Gundabad was a mountain of coal, a dark shadow on the white landscape. It stood taller than the other mountains, and yet no snow graced its slopes.

Gundabad stood alone, separated from the Grey Mountains by a large moor and the Misty Mountains by a deep valley. It glared down on any who dared to approach it, a menacing watchtower of the mountains.

"Goblins tend to hibernate during the winter," Anduin said. "But I hope we shall not have to go into Gundabad itself."

"Did the text mention this mountain?" Higgen asked, nestling further into his coat.

"No."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because the wind was so afraid," Anduin replied.

"The wind that tried to tear down the mountains?" Higgen asked.

"Yes."

"Oh good, just clarifying. After all, a wind that tries to flatten a mountain is the best guide on a journey such as this." A smile tugged Anduin's lips.

A rumble broke the silence.

"Was that your stomach?" Anduin asked.

"Not guilty," Higgen said, feeling his stomach.

"I was afraid of that." The rumbling grew louder so that Phaethon spooked and shied to one side.

"Giants!" Eliohad yelled. Anduin turned Phaethon sharply and urged him away from the mountains. Higgen looked behind them and saw a huge man, at least three times taller than Anduin. His skin was mottled grey, like a stone, and he had a long tufted tail.

The giant had also seen the fleeing riders, whom he now pointed to and called out in some grounding clashing language. Another giant came from around the side of the mountain and answered the first. Then both giants turned and began taking long strides, following the fleeing riders.

"Higgen, take the reins!" Anduin yelled.

"Me?" The hobbit was utterly surprised as Anduin had never told him to take the reins before. But he clutched tightly to the straps of leather and tried to give Phaethon his head. Suddenly Higgen felt Anduin's presence slip out from behind him. When he turned around he saw the ranger taking a fighting stance, preparing to meet the oncoming giants.

Higgen had accidentally pulled Phaethon's reins to the right when he turned around. Phaethon could tell that whoever was steering him was not his master and so the pony skidded to a stop, sending Higgen head over heels into a snowbank.

"Phaethon!" Higgen spluttered, coming up with a cold mouthful of snow. Then he saw, to his absolute horror, that one of the giants had picked up Anduin. The Man was tiny in its hand and his struggles were in vain. The giant looked over the ranger as though examining some new toy. The second giant had caught up, and it was clear that he wanted a chance to play with the toy.

The first giant growled, and tried to hold Anduin away from the other giant who reached around and tried to grasp the ranger. In this struggle, Anduin had managed to draw his knife, which he now stabbed deep into one of the fingers that was holding him.

The surprised giant dropped Anduin and began to suck on his finger. The second giant took the opportunity to make a grab for Anduin, but the first giant hit his hand away. They began to pull each other's hair and fell to punches and slaps.

Phaethon had trotted back to where Anduin now lay on the ground, discarded. The ranger swung himself over the pony's back and Phaethon carried him away from the giants, who were squabbling so hard by now that they didn't see their toy escape.

"Are you hurt?" Eliohad asked, spurring Elissa to meet Phaethon.

"Bruised, I think," Anduin said, bending over to grab Higgen's hand and pull him up into the saddle. "Let's hurry before they notice I'm gone."

Higgen was soaked through, his coat and blankets saturated with cold. The hobbit began to shiver uncontrollably as Phaethon began to canter, the cold air piercing his wet clothes. A heavy warmth fell on Higgen's shoulders and enveloped him. The hobbit grasped the edges of the cloth and inhaled the scent of horses and grass. Anduin's blanket.


	39. 39 Cold Fire

**Cold Fire**

The snow gave birth to flames, which flickered and grew despite their cold source. It was a vast, impenetrable field of fire-clad snow, cutting the last fragment away from the rest of the shield.

"How is this possible?" Higgen asked, the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes.

"Morgoth is said to have wielded both fire and ice to his purposes," Anduin said. The ranger dismounted and walked closer to the strange barrier. He crouched beside it, watching it closely. When he reached out a hand hesitantly, as though to touch the flames, Higgen cried out.

"Don't touch it!" the hobbit said. But Anduin allowed the fire to dance along his fingers and caress his hand.

"Cold fire," the Man said, wonderingly. "It is as cold as the ice it springs from." Eliohad slipped from his saddle and went to stand next to Anduin. He tentatively extended a hand into the fire, but quickly withdrew it.

"It burns!" the Elf said, sucking on his reddened hand. Anduin frowned, his own hand still immersed in fire.

"Let me see," the ranger said, standing up and taking Eliohad's burned hand in his own.

"Why didn't it burn you?" Higgen asked, jumping down from Phaethon.

"I don't know," Anduin said thoughtfully, examining Eliohad's hand. "All this needs is some Witch Hazel and chamomile," he told the Elf. Higgen moved closer to the fire, drawn in by its strangeness. He held up a hand, far away from the fire and inched it closer.

"It feels hot to me, too," Higgen said, enjoying the warm feeling of the fire.

"But it is ice cold!" Anduin repeated, again dipping his hand in the fire. "How can it seem hot to you?"

"It's an obstacle," Ciryon said. "Only the one who bears the other fragments of the shield can cross the cold fire." Anduin considered this for a moment, then unstrapped one of the drawstring bags from his belt and handed it to Eliohad.

"Put your other hand near the flames," he told the Elf. Eliohad slowly stretched out his fingers and allowed the fire to lick them.

"Still too hot for comfort," the Elf said, withdrawing his hand. The ranger put his own hand in and concentrated.

"I can feel warmth, but not burning," he said after a while.

"I suppose this means only one can go in," Higgen said, still entranced by the flames rooted in the snow.

"I will go," Eliohad offered immediately.

"No, I will," Higgen found himself saying. "I'm the smallest..."

"But not the strongest or quickest," Eliohad cut him off. "No, I will go."

"It must be I," Anduin said quietly.

"You are not strong enough," Eliohad argued softly. "And your leg..."

"It was foretold that I unite the pieces," Anduin sighed. "So it is fitting I collect the last fragment."

"There is yet another fragment in Celebrant," Eliohad began, reaching out to take the ranger's arm and pull him from the flame. But Anduin stepped quickly into the cold fire and shook his head at the Elf.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It must be I. Please, pass me my walking staff or I shall not get far." Eliohad did not move, but Gwindor fetched the length of wood and handed it to Anduin.

"I am not afraid, my friend," Anduin said. He carefully put the end of the staff in the fire, but it was not burned or scorched. And so Anduin turned and walked from the sight of the company, vanishing into the field of snow and fire.

The company waited long for his return, for a day and a night they kept vigil on the edge of the cold fire. In that time Eliohad's hand was bound and tended, but the Elf never took his eyes from the cold fire. At last the ranger returned, bearing with him the fourth and greatest of the fragments.

"What did you see?" Higgen asked as the Man came again into sight. Anduin merely shook his head and, passing from the circle of flame, mounted Phaethon.

"Let us be away from here before I say all that happened," he told the company.

Anduin wouldn't speak of anything until they were a week away. Often Higgen saw the ranger glance behind them, making sure that they were not followed. The snow faded from deep banks to light dustings before Anduin was ready to tell of the finding of the last fragment.

"I did not walk far into the cold fire before I came upon an outer watch tower of Gundabad. It was deserted, and so I entered. A staircase wound up, as one would expect, but it also continued downward.

I followed its descent and it grew colder and colder until I could have thought the very walls were made of ice. It went down for almost a mile, deep into the earth. And there I found a dead end.

It was a small chamber, round like the tower above, with a stone table at the center. Upon this table I found the ancient runes of the Dwarves. When translated..."

"You can read Dwarf language too?" Higgen asked, a little incredulous to find the ranger so all knowing.

"The Dwarf runes, especially the ancient ones, are taken from the realm of Doriath, an Elven kingdom. So yes, I could read them well. They said a great riddle which I did not understand, for Dwarves are ones for plain speaking and straightforwardness. This alone alerted me of the table's significance.

The runes read thus: I am the separator of all lovers

But in me they are united

I am old

I am young

I am gentle and soft

I am painful and loud

I am infinitely kind

I am infinitely cruel

I always advance and never retreat

I know the number of heartbeats given to each Man

I alone was at the beginning and will be at the end

None can hide from me

No Man shall escape my embrace

I am the Gift.

I am the Curse."

"I don't get it," Higgen said.

"I must admit that at first I did not also," Anduin told him. "Until the last two lines: I am the Gift, I am the Curse. It is death. For Iluvatar, as the Elves believe, gave to Man a great gift and that was death."

"How's death a gift?" Higgen demanded, eyebrows knit together.

"One day you will understand," Anduin said. "I think. But upon understanding the riddle I was still confused, for why should the Dwarves go to the trouble of engraving it upon a stone table and then leaving it in a mere watchtower? I began to pace around the room, thinking.

It was then that I realized that when read upside down, the runes were greatly altered. They revealed another riddle, and this I also read:

I am the gatekeeper

But I yield easily

I open the door with a gentle knock

I hold it shut fast

If I do not fit

I will not be forced

I am the robber's bane

I am the merchant's love

Without me you would stand

Outside in this chamber

So find me you must

I am a servant to all

Who hold me in their hand

And, of course, the answer was a key. I understood then some hidden chamber have an entrance in that room, a chamber that had to be unlocked.

The key had been provided by the first riddle. The stone table, a place of sacrifice. Blood was the toll to be paid, and by blood would the chamber be opened. I took my knife and, hoping only a small drop would suffice, I nicked my finger and let the blood drip on the table."

"Barbaric," Saerid muttered, and turned to spit on the ground.

"Like Morgoth," Anduin said. "But it sufficed to pay the toll. A door appeared, glowing in the ancient runes of the dwarves. Almost all the great dwelling places of the dwarves are opened by such doors. And so I entered, leaving behind the room of riddles."

Here Anduin fell silent, and a darkness came into his eyes. Eliohad put a hand on the ranger's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I saw... terrible things. The blood was more than a toll, it was a way for the next room to know who I was. For the images it showed me were of... my family. My friends. I guess you could say that they were images tailored to torture me.

It was the ring of the Elves that save me. For I was struck down by grief and horror, but the ring responded. It recognized the images and lashed out, for to it alone is the power to See such things granted. A ruby light filled the room, and chased away the shadows therein.

In that red light I saw a small iron box, inscribed with Quenya. When I opened it, the light of the Elven ring was faded to a small ember and a great rush of wind came from the box. After that, nothing. I saw the last piece of the shield of Morgoth lying between the iron sides.

Upon taking the fragment from the box I returned to you."

Pineapple Fetish: Well, they didn't have to go into Gundabad itself... I'm actually quite fond of Eradan, but not Erelion. Eradan is just supposed to be a grouchy old man, but Erelion is slightly racist. He loves his father and his country, but I intended him to be the first of the isolationist stewards.

I'm glad you like Higgen; my father says he's based off my dog. But then again, my dog is a glutton and rather fat...


	40. 40 The Gift of Iluvatar

**The Gift of Iluvatar**

The Great River has two sources, the Langwell and the Grelin. The Langwell is a merry stream that flows down from the high passes of the Misty Mountains with a gurgling laugh. The Grelin tumbles from the Grey Mountains, and it is swift but fairly silent. Both are fed by mighty rains and great snow melts, so that when the come together to form the Great River it flows strong, deep, and swift.

Anduin led the company across the Langwell, for she was shallower than her mate, and they followed the course of the Great River. It would lead them South, passed Lorien and into the fields of Celebrant.

As they left the meeting of the two rivers a warmth was returning to the air, for not only were they headed south but spring was here. The earth was coming alive, flowers sprang up where the horses tread and birds sang to the rising sun.

When, a few weeks later, they came in sight of the Carrock, a large rock that stood in the middle of the Great River and forced its flow to divide around it, they were surprised to see slender Elven boats tied there.

"Galadriel has great foresight," Anduin said, dismounting to examine the white Elven crafts. "The Lady of the Wood knew we would pass this way." As the evening was swiftly descending the company tied their horse to the nearby trees and began to make camp.

"Attack!" Ciryon screamed, loosing an arrow from his bow. Goblins were swarming through the trees, trying to surround the unwary travelers. The Elves were up with swords in hand, and Anduin stood with them. Higgen scrambled to draw his own short sword before the throng was upon them.

There a great many goblins, far outnumbering the small company. Gwindor and Thrimich tried their best to shield Higgen, but sometimes the hobbit had to defend himself from the creature's onslaught.

Anduin was in the middle of the fighting, cutting left and right with his sword. A goblin had climbed up the Carrock and was preparing to leap upon Eliohad from above. Anduin threw his hunting knife and the goblin tottered for a moment before falling into the river.

A huge goblin, possibly the king of that band, stood watching the fight. He had a tall bow and a quiver of jet black arrows beside him. The goblin king watched Anduin with his yellow, slitted eyes and he growled.

Selecting an arrow from the quiver the goblin king aimed at the ranger's back. But as he loosed the shaft, Anduin spun to clash swords with yet another goblin. The arrow hit Anduin in his right chest, just below the clavicle. The Man gasped, temporarily incapacitated.

The goblin he had been fighting slashed Anduin's stomach, and the crude blade cut through the leather jerkin and made a deep gash there. With a great yell, Anduin thrust his sword blindly into the goblin's abdomen. Pulling Elenath forth again his swung the blade through the air and stabbed the goblin's heart.

Anduin stumbled away, clutching his hurt stomach and blinking away the darkness that threatened to cloud his vision. A goblin, seeing him vulnerable, came up behind the ranger and, with a mighty downward cut, he cut a gash in Anduin's back from his right shoulder to his left hip.

At this Anduin's back arched in pain and he fell to his knees, Elenath slipping from his grip. The goblin king himself had come down into the fighting.

He stood before the ranger, a thick spear balanced in his hand. Anduin, helpless, looked up as he gasped for air. The goblin king snarled and pulled his arm back, but as he hurled the spear, a white arrow transfixed his neck.

The goblin king fell, but as he did he thrust his spear deep into Anduin's side. With a shallow gasp, the Man fell to his right side and lay there unmoving. He was vaguely aware of yelling, and of white shapes chasing away the black swarm, but the pain consumed his brain.

Eliohad ran to where Anduin lay and carefully raised the ranger up a little.

"Eliohad?" Anduin's voice was faint, and his blue eyes were glazed and dull.

"Fetch herbs!" Eliohad commanded, but Anduin raised his hand and put it on the Elf's shoulder.

"Abta anamin," (_It is too late for me_), the ranger said.

"Anduin!" Higgen cried, running to where the Elf cradled the injured Man.

"Sana perian kela," (_Take the hobbit away_), the ranger said weakly. "U'boe tirad sina." (_He should not see this_). Eliohad hesitated, then nodded to Ciryon. The Elf took the hobbit in his arms and carried him away.

"Anduin! What are you doing? Let me go! Anduin!" Anduin winced to hear Higgen's protests.

"Eliohad, I am dying."

"No," Eliohad said, tears clouding his grey eyes. "I won't let you."

"When I am gone," Anduin continued. "Give my rings to my father. Tell him...tell him I am sorry."

They placed Anduin in one of the boats, with Eliohad at its stern and Higgen at its bow. The Elves hurried down the Great River, hoping to reach Lorien and there Galadriel who might heal Anduin.

Anduin was strong, and he endured for many days. But when they were just one day from Lorien, the ranger was fading fast.

"Eliohad?"

"Yes?" the Elf said, leaning forward hopefully.

"Where is Phaethon?"

"He follows the boats." The stallion was indeed keeping pace with the boats, not stopping for any night nor eating at all.

"He will die because of me," Anduin said with a sigh. "Eliohad, I have loved you." The Elf nodded sadly.

"I have loved you, too, A'maelamin," (_My beloved_).

"Do you think... that I will find a place... beyond the Sea?" Anduin asked in whisper, his blue eyes gazing upon the stars above.

"Yes, I think that." Eliohad said, taking Anduin's hand.

"Eliohad..." Anduin sighed, and he close his blue eyes forevermore. Eliohad fell upon his friend's chest, sobbing and lamenting. Higgen stared, wide-eyed, clutching Anduin's bags and cloak to his chest.

"Galadriel!" Eliohad cried, leaping from the boat with Anduin's body in his arms. They had arrived in Lorien, but it was too late. The White Lady came to look upon the body of Anduin, taking it from Eliohad.

"He is gone," Galadriel said softly. "There is nothing I can do."

"Please, Galadriel!" Eliohad begged, tears streaming down his face. "I would take a mortal life for him!" The White Lady looked at the grieving Elf, her grey eyes sad and searching.

"He is gone," she repeated. "There are ways of preserving the body, if you wish him to be buried at Imladris." Eliohad nodded listlessly.

That night, Galadriel came and bid each member of the Company walk with her. To Eliohad she spoke the most saying:

"The quest must be completed and the shield destroyed."

"My lady, we do not even know how to destroy the shield."

"Did Elrond give something to Anduin before you left Rivendell?" The lady asked. Eliohad told her of Elenath and Galadriel asked to see it. When Eliohad brought it forth, the lady drew the sword and examined it.

"This sword bears the name Elenath, but it has not always. For all rumors regarding the origin of Calenor were true. He was descended from Tuor, a bastard race. He also was an outlaw, but fleeing family rather than past, for his mother was an Elven lady, the daughter of Gil-galad. And so all of Calenor's line had the blue eyes of Tuor, but the dark hair of the Elves.

Elenath was reforged from the great sword of Earendil, which he himself took from Tuor the Mighty. It alone can destroy the shield of Morgoth. For this reason Elrond gave his father's sword to the heir of Calenor. And now it has passed to you."

"I do not desire to continue this quest," Eliohad said, shaking his head. "I desire only to carry Labadal's body back to Rivendell."

"And you shall," Galadriel said, putting the sword back into Eliohad's hand. "After you have completed what he set out to achieve."

Higgen was curled up at the base of a mallorn tree, clutching the bags to him. They were all that he had that remained of Anduin, his own blankets (still holding the scent of horses and a fresh breeze through the grass), his fur lined cloak, and his herb bag.

It was here that Eliohad found the hobbit. He gently tried to pry the bags from Higgen's fingers but the hobbit curled his body around them to protect them.

"I must have the fragments, little one," the Elf said softly. Higgen looked up, his hazel eyes clouded in grief.

"Do I have to come?" he asked tremulously.

"No, you have done enough," Eliohad told him, placing a hand on the hobbit's dark curls.

"We have all done enough," it was Thrimich, who stood behind Eliohad. The Elf's light brown hair was ill cared for and his grey eyes were clouded with the same grief as Higgen's.

"Aye," Eliohad sighed. "Too much. But Galadriel is sending an escort with us. The task is almost over."

"Almost over," Higgen repeated, and his fingers unclenched from the bags of their own accord. Eliohad quickly took the four drawstring bags from him and then stood.

The fields of Celebrant still stood green, the long grasses lifting their heads in the soft East wind. After all of the destruction the shield had wrought, the field seemed surreal in its health and peace.

They found where the final fragment was buried, for Galadriel had told them where it was. They dug the ore from the ground, and it was the smallest of the pieces. Then Eliohad laid the fragments upon the ground and they lay bare to the sun.

A cloud came over the land, blocking the sunlight from that place. The metal seemed to melt and twist, crawling over the ground. The fragments found each other, and they began to smooth and spread out, forming a large circle. It was the shield, formed again.

Ancient, dark inscriptions appeared along the edges and terrible pictures were engraved there. A voice came from the shield, chanting in an evil, forgotten language. And all who heard it were petrified with fear.

But Eliohad raised the sword of Tuor and with a mighty yell, pierced the center of the shield. The voice ceased its chant and a great scream filled the air, as though the shield itself were dying.

The aegis began to crack, as though made of overheated clay, and blood seemed to pour from the cracks. Then the shield melted into shadow and when the cloud passed from the face of the sun, was dispersed.

This was the end of the quest to destroy Morgoth's shield. But the evil that escaped that day from its destruction awoke Sauron in Mordor and began the story of the War of the Ring. But that is another story and is not told here.

Upon returning to Lorien, Eliohad found that Galadriel had bound and cleaned the wounds of Anduin. The Lady of the Wood was true to her word, and it seemed merely as though Anduin was sleeping.

"The Great River shall bear another name now," Galadriel told the company as they departed. "It shall be called the Anduin, for it bore him thence. And the fate of Middle Earth will rest upon the River Anduin."

"Will his spirit be in the water?" Eliohad asked, remembering the Amon Dannen Maethor and how the ghost of Captain Wheeler was said to guard it.

"Anduin is gone from Middle Earth," Galadriel said. "He does not reside in the water, for not even the Great Anduin River could hold the spirit of one so valiant as he."

The original name of this chapter was "How the River Anduin Got its Name", but I liked "The Gift of Iluvatar" better. I should probably have warned you that I enjoy killing off my protagonists...


	41. 41 The Line of Calenor Continued

A/N: The lament for Anduin is called "Song For a Friend" by John Stewart.

**The Line of Calenor Continued**

They carried Anduin's body back to Rivendell, and long and slow was the journey. When they arrived at that city the watchmen in the trees sang a lament for Anduin.

"When you sit and wonder why things have gone so wrong

And you wish someone would tell us where our friend has gone

Look then in the hills when there's courage in the wind

And in the face of freedom and those who look to him

And search within the heart of every young man with a song

Then I think we'll know where our friend has gone.

Summer takes the winter, as the good years take the pain.

There'll be laughter in the land again, but hearts won't be the same.

And I know I'll remember when a chill wind takes the sky

And speak of years he gave us hope, for they will never die

And as we gaze at brave young men when yesterdays grow long,

Then I think we'll know where our friend has gone.

When you sit and wonder why things have gone so wrong

It's then that we'll remember where our friend has gone."

They placed Anduin upon a stone pedestal and the Elves came there to mourn him. Phaethon was also there, placing his great head upon his master's still chest he let tears fall. The tears rolled down his cheeks and wet the shroud that covered Anduin. Then Phaethon heaved a great sigh, and as that breath left him so too did his life.

And so the words that Anduin spoke as he lay dying were true: "That horse will die because of me."

Many years later a small statue of a pony was placed near to the tomb of Anduin. It was not portrayed as other horses are, proud and noble, galloping across the plains bearing their masters to battle. But rather it was of a small pony, his hair in his eyes as he stood in some invisible wind. And under this statue this inscription was placed:

PHAETHON

A TRUE AND LOYAL FRIEND

MAY HIS SPIRIT FIND URICON

IN THE REALM BEYOND THE SEA

And also, upon the tomb of Anduin:

ANDUIN

ELF-FRIEND

HEIR OF CALENOR

Moin was working in the forges, pounding iron into a flat spearhead, when Poika entered the smithy.

"Message for you," the dwarf said, waving a piece of paper. Moin stood and, wiping the sweat from his brow, took the envelope. It had no writing on it save his name, but it was sealed with red wax.

A proud pony, head aloft and mane flowing, galloping across a range of hills.

"Anduin!" Moin exclaimed, breaking the seal. "Maybe promising me some more ponies." But the letter did not come from Anduin, it was written in the spindly handwriting of an Elf.

_Eliohad of Imladris, sends his greetings to Moin son of Doin son of Bloin. I am writing in concern of Anduin son of Alenor, who was a shared friend of ours._

_I am sorry to say that Anduin fell in battle some months after we departed from you in the Iron Hills. His body lies in the city of Rivendell, if you have wish to come and pay your last respects. _

_I will not be there, nor will the company of Elves that first set out from Rivendell on that quest with Anduin. We have an errand to run in the region of Brethil and from there we are taking the ships from the Havens of Sirion and crossing the Great Sea._

Alenor had regained his sight the moment Anduin died, although he did not know how or why. Ilayilia had rejoiced in her father's sudden healing and often brought Falkas, her infant son, to see his grandfather. But she was not there the day the Elves came.

The Elves approached the cottage carefully and slowly. They wore long grey robes, not traveling clothes, and a golden-haired Elf led them. Alenor watched them come from his window.

"Alenor son of Fanduin?" The golden-haired Elf asked, looking at the Man.

"What do you want?" the reply was gruff and inhospitable.

"I bring these rings and a message from your son Anduin," the Elf said, opening his hand. Two rings lay on his cool white palm. "He said that he is sorry." Alenor took the rings in his gnarled hand. One he recognized, the ring of Calenor, but the ruby was a mystery to him. Alenor stared down at the jewel.

"I have no son," he said at last.

"He did not forget you, at the end," the Elf said. Alenor blinked and looked up in surprise.

"At... the end?" he asked. The Elf nodded.

"Anduin fell in battle some months ago. He bid me give these to you with his dying breath."

"My son?" Alenor asked. The Elf nodded once more, then all of them departed. As they left the house they passed Ilayilia who was coming in. The woman stared at the strange visitors then ran to where her father had sat heavily in a chair.

"Father? Who were those men?" she asked, putting her arms around the frail old man.

"Anduin, your brother..." Alenor said. Ilayilia started; her father had not said Anduin's name since he had cast him out all those man years ago. "He is dead."

"Dead? How did this happen?" Ilayilia cried.

"Ilayilia, a darkness has come over me."

"The blindness? Is it returning?" she asked, but Alenor shook his head and pressed the rings into her hands.

"Give these to your son," the old man gasped. "But do not leave until I am sleeping." Ilayilia took the rings and cradled her father until his breath rattled in his chest. So passed Alenor, son of Fanduin, the blind man of Brethil.

Ilayilia took the rings to her home. When her son Falkas reached manhood she gave the rings to him. He took up his forefather's occupation, driving the Rhaw Nur south every summer. But he never forgot the stories his mother told him of Anduin the Valiant.

Falkas bore Fanduin II who in turn bore Falenor. Falenor was a dark young Man, cursed to be the last heir of Calenor. When he went to the tomb of Anduin to pay his own respects to his ancestor, Falenor was dragged into the Fellowship. But, again, that is another story and is not recorded here.

Dearest readers: If you wish, I will publish _The Legacy of Calenor _which follows Falenor and his adventures as the Tenth Walker. I also have another story, _In the Dragon's Claw_, which is about Ilayilia. However, I won't publish these unless at least one of you requests one or the other, or even both, so press the Review button!


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